Without Words
by dementedchris
Summary: Ch12 updated He was just a story she was assigned to write. But the more Makimachi Misao discovers about him, the more she finds herself drawn into something she hadn’t completely expected. AU Aoshi/Misao
1. By Definition

**Summary:** He was just a story she was assigned to write. But the more Makimachi Misao discovers about him, the more she finds herself drawn into something she hadn't completely expected. AU fic with Aoshi/Misao

**Disclaimer:** Rurouni Kenshin belongs to Nobuhiro Watsuki. Aoshi? Mine? I wish! I am but a humble servant woken up by her muse at 2 in the morning.

**Notes:** Looking back I've noticed that there may be a few slightly-OOC moments here and there. Hope you will stretch your imagination for me, dear reader. It takes a genius to keep them completely in character in an AU fic, and I have no delusions of being one. Bring your senses to my front door; leave a note on your way out. Thanks. 

**Without Words**

dementedchris

**1- By Definition**

She worked with words. She took them, shaped them, made them into her own. She molded them to serve her purposes; she wove them together because that was her way of life. 

The day she met him was the day she lost all her power over them.

And there was no turning back.

***

She knew about deadlines because she lived by them; she didn't need an editor to keep hammering it into her head. Especially when that editor was the one who stuck her with the lousy assignment in the first place.

And _especially_ when that editor was her grandfather.

She was storming out of his office when his parting words caught her. "You'd better be on your way to that interview, sweetheart."

Makimachi Misao gritted her teeth and faced him, matching her grandfather stare for stare. "I. Said. I. Would. Have. It. In. By. Thursday. Don't rush me, old man."

"If only you pursue a story with the same intensity as you go after me," Okina said with an amused grin, his tone softening. 

Misao didn't buy his good-guy act. She knew that he was only doing it to get a rise out of her, even if it meant goading her in the middle of a crowded newsroom. But she didn't care what the others thought. People at the Oni Times were paid to be nosy -- hell, she had a reputation for being the nosiest one of all. Instead, she directed all her attention on Okina. Sometimes she loved the man to death. He was, after all, her only flesh and blood. 

This was not one of those times.

"What can be so intense about a tight-lipped scientist?" she countered. "If that hermit is your idea of a human interest story, you've been too locked up in your office."

Okina laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. She tried not to bristle at his touch. "Ah, my child, you'll know what I mean once you've reached my level of wisdom and maturity --"

"Wisdom and maturity, my foot!" She took a deep breath. There was no sense wasting her breath with Okina. Grabbing her backpack and tape recorder off her desk, Misao waved him off. "All right, I'll do the interview. Tomorrow. But first I have to go and pick up a few documents from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs for that other story I have to finish."

"Hate to break it to you, sweetheart," her grandfather said in a tone that belied his words, "but your interview has to come first. The professor is leaving for Kyoto tomorrow and putting it off means --"

"—that I won't meet my Thursday deadline," she finished for him. "Fine, you win, old man. I'll set up the appointment."

Okina grinned widely. "I had Okon do that for you. You're to meet Shinomori-san at 2:00 pm this afternoon."

Misao rolled her eyes. He had everything figured out, didn't he? Days like this she wanted to strangle him. "That's an hour from now. Thanks for telling me."

"No problem," her grandfather said cheerfully, handing her a piece of paper before heading back into his office.

Misao glanced at the paper in her hands. It had everything she needed to know about the appointment. Now all she needed was to get the info she had dug up on the professor and she would be on her way. That was the way Okina had always been with her – so carefully manipulative, planning her life with his casual negotiations and friendly deals. She'd figure out his schemes a little too late. Oh, she knew he loved her, and that everything he did was for her benefit. But that didn't mean that what he felt was best for her _was_ what was best for her.

She checked her watch. 1:10 pm. She had a deadline to meet.

Misao sighed. She knew about deadlines because she lived by them. Without them, she had nothing.

Alone, again.

***

He checked the wall clock, making sure that he read the gray numbers properly. He was going to be in Kyoto this time tomorrow, and here he was, waiting for an unwanted appointment. This interview was definitely not his idea. His work spoke for itself; there was nothing he wanted to share with the rest of the world about mitochondrial biogenesis that he hadn't neatly typed up in the reports. But the dean's secretary had informed him of the interview, adding that it was the dean's personal request that he agree to the feature story to boost student interest in the biochemistry department's latest project.

Professor Shinomori Aoshi schooled his features to keep them from revealing any hint of irritation. He knew what the dean wanted. An interview would have been the best way to drum up the publicity, to entice prospective sponsors into the world of academic politics. 

But Aoshi wanted none of that. He didn't need to draw more attention to himself. This was precisely why he chose to hide behind the facts and figures of science, so sharply impersonal that he didn't mind being cut off from everyone else.

Yet tomorrow he was going back to Kyoto.

Back to 'everyone else.'

_One last time_, he told himself. And then every last bridge will be burned.

Alone, again.

***

The drive to the University was short, courtesy of her best friend Kaoru, who was bringing her only son Kenji to the pediatrician. Misao cuddled the one-year old in her arms, feeling all the afternoon's tension slip away.

"I thought you said you were headed for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs," Kaoru commented.

"Okina sent me to this interview instead. I'll get those papers tomorrow," Misao replied, smiling for the first time since her conversation with Okina. He had assigned that story a few days earlier, just enough for her to get all the info on Shinomori, but what frustrated her was how Okina would refuse to let the topic go. Now, with Kaoru and Kenji, Misao smiled away the last shreds of her anger, enjoying instead the quiet company of her friends. 

As a reporter, she prided herself in her ability to charm her way into a confidence and get the story she wanted. She had a whole phonebook of contacts that she can prod for leaks and interviews. She had a smile that sugarcoated her stubborn streak. She was genki personified.

But that was work. When the presses were shut down, all she had to go home to was an empty apartment.

Sometimes it was better to immerse herself so fully in her work, to ignore the void in her life. Of course, there was Okina, but recently all they ever talked about was the Oni Times. She was thankful for Kaoru and her husband Kenshin, who have been her friends since high school. They brought her to dinners and family outings, but in the end, they went home together – and she still went home alone. She kept the smile on because that's who she really was – positive, optimistic. Some days, though, being alone was just a little harder to take.

Misao focused on Kenji, who had begun drooling on her arm. "You hungry, big boy?"

"He thinks you need a bath," Kaoru teased.

Misao's hand flew self-consciously to her hair, touching her long black braid. It had always been a running joke between them that Misao needed to take more pains with her appearance. Misao claimed it was one of the hazards of the job. "Hey, I just had one this morning!" 

"Can't tell from here."

"That's because the toxic fumes from your cooking have clogged up your nasal passages."

"Hey!" Kaoru laughed. "Is that any way to treat your driver?"

Misao brightened up as she saw the University looming ahead of them. "Yes, since here we are!" She fumbled around in the back for the baby carrier and carefully deposited Kenji there before alighting from the car. "Thanks, Kaoru," she said.

Her friend grinned. "Anytime, Misao-chan," she replied, before driving away.

Alone, again. She knew the routine, as she consulted her slip of paper. "Shinomori Aoshi," she murmured out loud. But this time she put on a smile and went in search of the good professor.

***

She got there with just five minutes to spare, because she had such a rough time finding her way to Shinomori-san's office. When she did, she was surprised to see the dean's secretary waiting for her right outside. She was a much older woman with a lumpy figure and a pair of warm eyes.

Misao flashed her Press ID and an apologetic smile. "Gomena--"

"It's okay," the woman cut her off as she ushered her in. "Please, follow me. It's always a pleasure to have a member of the Oni Times here. Shinomori-san is waiting for you inside."

Misao hid a smile at the woman's eagerness, following her into the office. Her eyes surveyed the length of the room, trained to take in detail at a glance. Not that it helped her in this case; the sparsely decorated room told her nothing significant about the scientist. There was just a large wooden desk, a file cabinet and a low bookshelf. But all that faded into the wallpaper as the man behind the desk stood up.

He was tall, dwarfing Misao with the lean yet muscular frame emphasized by his stark white lab gown. His hair fell in long bangs across his thin, wire-rimmed glasses. Behind those frames his eyes were a deep piercing blue.

A pause.

Misao opened her mouth. She knew she was supposed to say something.

Only, she forgot what.

**End of Chapter 1: By Definition**

**More Notes: **My decision to make Misao a reporter is born of two things: a) it's one (only?) profession that I know; and b) her fiery, go-getter attitude would be ideal for someone who is paid to go after a story. Which brings me to Aoshi. True, he'd be the poster boy for the cold and calculating businessman, but my experience with business has taught me that a large majority of these people are extroverts/people persons. I just can't imagine Aoshi in the whole "Let's talk stocks while we do lunch and golf" scenario. Enter the biochemist. I felt that ol' Ice Blue Eyes would be perfect as someone who had to deal with the cold hard facts of science on a daily basis. Besides, just imagine his white trench coat as a lab gown, and you'll do fine. Naturally.


	2. Mightier Than the Sword

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Disclaimer: You know the drill. 

****

Notes: Arigatou gozaimasu to Yoshino-kun for the overview on Tokyo; it was truly more informative than a guidebook. Anata wa umai na hito desu. You kept me from going tempatteru. Thank you also for all the reviews and comments, especially to Mara, for the help on the precious mitochondria. Again, welcome to my home, enjoy yourselves, and leave a note on your way out. 

****

Without Words

****

2- Mightier Than The Sword

"Shinomori Aoshi, meet...?"

It took a while for Misao to realize that the secretary was waiting expectantly for her reply. Apparently both of them had been waiting for her to speak for quite some time now.

"Makimachi Misao," she quickly supplied. She took a deep breath, using the few precious seconds to compose herself. _Genki time. One. Two. Three. _"I'm from the Oni Times. It's a pleasure to meet you, Shinomori-san."

He just looked at her with those blue eyes.

The secretary cleared her throat. "Makimachi-san, I'll leave you two alone now. Why don't you make yourself comfortable while I…"

Misao understood why the secretary's voice had trailed off. The only seat in the room was the one behind Shinomori's desk.

"…go ask someone to bring some extra chairs," the woman finished smoothly. She gave them a tight smile then quietly left the room.

Professor Shinomori continued studying her with those blue eyes of his that Misao couldn't help but blush. The man must think she was an organism under a microscope! What was she supposed to do now? Wasn't he going to say anything? Wasn't he even going to ask her to sit down?

She suddenly remembered the tape recorder in her back pocket and took it out. "You don't mind if I tape our conversation, do you?" she asked, as she set it on his table.

"Yes," was his succinct reply.

"Excuse me?" Misao clarified.

"I don't want any record of this conversation aside from your notes," he said.

Misao swallowed her protest with a smile. Her information on the guy told her that the project was under serious scrutiny. Maybe he had good reason to be cautious. Or maybe he was just plain weird. "Okay," she agreed amiably, slipping the recorder into her pocket.

But his reaction only fueled her innate curiosity. Just as she slid the recorder back, she managed to flick the record button on. 

__

Easy does it, she told herself.

She hoped the extra motion had gone unnoticed, and plastered a smile on her face. Then she breathed a silent prayer that she had enough tape to run the entire conversation. The thought made her grin even more. With a man as stingy with his words as this one, she had no doubt that she'd still have plenty of space left.

A knock on the door announced the secretary's return, and she guided a janitor carrying an extra chair. The older woman had the chair placed directly in front of Professor Shinomori's desk. She waited for the others to leave the room before turning back to the professor.

"Please sit," he instructed her. Misao couldn't tell if his words were an invitation or an order, but she followed him nonetheless.

She took out her pen and notebook and prepared to ask her first question.

But just one look at those blue eyes staring from behind the glasses, and her mind was a blank.

"Uhm…" she fumbled, mentally going over her notes in a desperate attempt to find a decent topic.

Misao had never gone through anything like this. She may not be grace under pressure, but she was quick on her feet and quicker with her wit. But now…

What was the name of that project?

And was what _her_ name, for that matter?

***

Aoshi couldn't believe it. This _girl_ had the temerity to call herself a reporter? She couldn't even put together a coherent sentence! But on the outside, his face betrayed no trace of his emotion as he waited for her to begin. It was a skill he had long mastered. As long as he kept his feelings in check, he was in the clear. But just because he didn't show any emotion didn't mean that he never felt any.

Now this girl came walking into his life, all sunshine and smiles, and things weren't so simple anymore.

He had his doubts the minute she strode into the room, with her face lit up like an overeager child, her long black braid whipping about her. She could have passed for a high school student, but Aoshi assumed that she was around twenty-one or twenty-two. At first he thought that this was some temp or editorial intern, sent to do her first assignment. When she introduced herself, it took him a conscious effort to avoid raising his eyebrows. He knew of Makimachi Misao. He had read her articles in the Times. When he was still in Kyoto, his job had been to keep close tabs on the media, and he had taken a particular interest to a new reporter who was covering the Tokyo crime beat. Her news was more than standard stuff. He knew enough of the scene to tell that she kept on bringing up angles that would normally have been forgotten. After all, he'd been part of all that, so many years ago. 

But lately she had been reassigned to do features for the weekly supplementary -- and they still contained her trademark hard-hitting and thought-provoking style. His favorite had been an interview she did with an old acquaintance, a man convicted of theft and murder. Aoshi knew Watanabe Udo had been guilty. Makimachi's article had made no excuses for the man's sins, yet Aoshi found himself rethinking his opinion of Watanabe.

He couldn't believe that the woman who had made the tough Watanabe reveal his childish passion for purikura and ice cream sundaes would be the same girl sitting before him today.

***

Misao was still panicking. Just as she was about to launch on a lame opening, she caught sight of Professor Shinomori. His face was expressionless, but in his eyes, Misao could see the slightest hint of amusement and irritation.

Sure, he was one fine specimen of a man. And sure, there wasn't anything about him that blatantly revealed his dislike of her. But Misao could feel it. And no one was going to get away with laughing at Makimachi Misao.

Something clicked.

"Your work with mitochondrial genes, especially your inquiries on the transcription of nuclear and mitochondrial genomes, has earned you the respect of your colleagues. What do you --"

He cut her off in mid-sentence. "Did you understand what you just said?"

She looked up at him, her smile so politely deferential but with eyes faintly challenging. "I understand that your project's goal is to see how expression of those two genomes can be regulated under physiological conditions and ultimately understand the process to see how it can be used in combating certain diseases. Unfortunately there has been a certain faction of the scientific community that continues to question your methods."

"I see."

Misao tried not to grip her pencil too hard. _I see? Was that all he could say?_ "Some sectors wish you were more transparent with your research."

"Some sectors wish to take credit for research that they did not initiate."

"Professional jealousy, then?"

He did not respond.

Misao gave herself a mental shake. This was not the way she wanted the interview to go. She had planned on a light piece on Professor Shinomori, one that focused on the achievements that led to his being the youngest biochemist -- he was only twenty-eight -- to receive a grant from the University. And not just any grant, but one that was rumored to be worth nearly half a million US dollars.

She decided to change tactics. " So when you're not dealing with professional jealousy or redecorating your office, what else do you do with your free time?"

***

Her question floored him.

First she had taken him aback by her grasp of his project's concept. It was remarkable for someone who had no interest in science to be able to sum it up accurately. Next, she had hit it right on the nail -- professional jealousy was one of the topics he had hoped to avoid, yet she had smoothly built up her question, the transition clear and logical that he ought to have expected it. And then, her cheeky dig at his office decoration. 

In short, the girl had his number and it was only ten minutes into the interview.

He didn't know whether to laugh or be insulted. He decided on neither, letting no emotion show. "I practice some martial arts now and then."

She smiled, as if that was exactly what she wanted to hear. Didn't she ever get tired of smiling? If he did that, his cheeks would crack in two. "A black belt in judo, an instructor on the use of the kodachi, a master of countless of other styles -- it's amazing for a former member of the famed Kyoto Juppongatana to refer to his skills so lightly."

Aoshi's eyes widened slightly as she mentioned the underworld gang he had left behind. How in the world did she get that information? "You have interesting sources, Makimachi-san. I'd start looking for more reliable ones, if I were you."

"Do you realize that that's the longest thing you've ever said to me?" she pointed out with her mischievous eyes. Then she leaned forward, moving in for the kill. "So what made you leave them?" 

He refused to answer. Any response from him would be tantamount to acknowledging her facts -- and he'd rather spend the entire afternoon revealing his entire scientific findings rather than talk about _them_.

But still she went on, as if expecting his silence. "Then why are you going back?"

Aoshi had had enough. How much did she really know? Any more and the girl wish she had wisely kept her mouth shut. He stood up. "I was under the impression that this interview was about the University's research."

He didn't mean to be harsh and rude -- but he had to be. The girl flinched slightly at his cool tone, but bravely remained in her seat. "Shinomori-san, I write human interest features. I was sent to interview _you_, not your mitochondria." 

He stared at her. She had nerve. Then, for the first time in thirteen years, he found himself blurting out the first thing that came to his mind. "My mitochondria may prove to be more interesting."

She smiled. "I highly doubt that," she said gently.

Aoshi cursed his runaway tongue. But hell, what he wouldn't give to see her smile like that again.

***

Misao was delighted with the way the interview went. Professor Shinomori had gone back to being as tight-lipped as he was during the start of their meeting, but she still managed to get him to talk about his beginnings in science and his current research. He also unbent enough to discuss his early childhood in Kyoto -- if discussion could be defined as a grunted 'yes' or 'no' from the man. When she mentioned his interest in Zen, his eyes lit up briefly before settling back into his cool stare. But Misao had seen that sparkle, and when she pressed on, Professor Shinomori gave in and opened up. Sort of. For someone like him, five uninterrupted sentences -- no prompting, no encouragement -- was opening up. So all in all, things were much better than she had expected. 

"Thank you for interview," she told him warmly, as she got up from her seat an hour later. She was hoping that writing it wouldn't be too much of a problem despite all the pauses and silences in the conversation; she had her trusty tape recorder on anyway.

He just stood up and nodded.

"Don't trouble yourself. I'll show myself out," she said, politely backing away. Much as she hated the interview to end, she hated it even more that she might not be able to see him again. "I hope you'll have a safe trip to Kyoto." Then she whirled around and headed for the door.

"Makimachi-san," he called out.

She turned around, surprised at how different her name sounded from his lips. "Call me Misao, please."

"Misao," Shinomori said, walking towards her. 

Misao gulped as he closed the distance between them -- very fast. He stopped, standing so close to her that she could smell the faint soap on his skin. To her complete and utter surprise, his left arm went to her waist, almost cradling her.

She blushed deeply. "A-Aoshi," she murmured, dropping all formalities in a split second. He was moving too fast for her tastes, but one look into his ice blue eyes glinting purposefully, and she was lost. She leaned slightly forward, slowly closing her eyes --

-- Only to open them wide a moment later at the sight of Aoshi holding her tape recorder in his hand.

If only the earth would open up and swallow her whole. Misao couldn't believe her irrational display of emotion just seconds earlier. How could she act so unprofessionally? But more importantly, she couldn't believe that Aoshi had noticed that tape recorder in the first place! "Did I leave it on your desk?" she asked in an upbeat tone, as smoothly as she could manage. 

He didn't even smile. He took out the tape, and tossed the recorder back to her. "I thought I had made myself clear."

"And yes, that _is_ a great souvenir of our afternoon," she said, still keeping a smile on her face. She couldn't tell what was going on behind those eyes of his. Was he going to sue her for invasion of privacy? Breach of contract? Sexual harassment?

"You know your way out," he said. Then he turned around and walked back to his desk.

Misao heaved a sigh of relief as she slipped out of the office. The man was a complete mystery. Just when she thought she had him figured out, there he was again, dancing out of her line of logic and into the shadows. What was it about the man that had so captivated her, in the short measured silences of the afternoon?

She tossed her braid over her shoulder. Her recorder was lighter than it had been in a long time, mainly because of the loss of the tape. She had to go and buy another one this afternoon.

But there was something else she lost today. Something more. A piece of her anatomy, like maybe, her heart.

***

He closed his eyes. She smelled so good, felt so light in his arms. It had been too long since he held someone that close. But he couldn't allow himself to feel that way for her. He couldn't allow himself to feel _anything_ for her. Not when it was too dangerous.

Not when she was too dangerous. 

"Misao," he murmured. She nearly walked away with her tape recorder, and along with it, significant information that he shouldn't have even mentioned in her presence. But she had a way about her. He didn't want to disappoint her, or let her down. If she had gone out that door with the recorder, life was going to get a little more interesting than it already was.

He had to forget her. _It's better this way,_ he consoled himself. Better for everyone involved.

Maybe he'd see her again, a few years from now, when things were different. Maybe she'd still smile at him the same way, with her heart in those clear eyes of hers. And maybe then, his heart wouldn't ache as it did now, as if he had found something he wasn't looking for, but lost it before he even knew he had it.

****

End of Chapter 2- Mightier Than The Sword

More Notes: Purikura are those little photo stickers. Also, forgive me for taking liberties with Aoshi's and Misao's ages.


	3. Things Left Unsaid

**Disclaimer: **Not mine. RK belongs to Nobuhiro Watsuki.

**Without Words**

**3-Things Left Unsaid**

"You sure you want to do this?"

Aoshi looked up from his notes to see his research assistant Hannya giving him a worried look. Much as he was pleased to have such a loyal and trustworthy assistant, Aoshi admitted that Hannya was the last person he wanted to see. He had meant to slip quietly into the lab without running into anyone, before he headed to Kyoto that afternoon. 

Out of all the members on his research team, Hannya was the only one who knew why he was leaving. They had known each other for years, tracing the friendship back to Kyoto, when things were different. Hannya was quick-witted, but he wouldn't have landed a much-coveted position on the research team if Aoshi hadn't had enough faith in his abilities. Aoshi knew he could count on the older man if things got out of hand. "It needs to be done," he said simply.

"Shishio won't be pleased," Hannya stated.

Aoshi flinched inwardly at the name his assistant had so casually tossed out, but tried not to show it. "I guess not," he replied.

"If you need a hand, boss…" Hannya's voice trailed off. It was then that Aoshi realized that Hannya hadn't called him 'boss' in a long time.

And he remembered. 

***

_"Watch out, boss!" Hannya cried out in warning._

_Aoshi whirled around, perfectly deflecting the blow aimed at him. In one swift movement, he pulled out his kodachi out, burying it in the man's abdomen. Nobody carried a kodachi around nowadays, but this had always been Aoshi's special weapon. There was nothing he trusted more._

_His attacker fell, and in the end, only Aoshi and Hannya were left standing._

_"Let's get --" Aoshi began to say, only to stop in mid-sentence. Hannya's face was horribly disfigured, a mass of cuts and scratches, of bruises and blood. One eye was a nasty purple shade while the other remained shut. _

_This hadn't even been Hannya's fight. It was Aoshi's through and through, a routine assignment that had gone wrong. It was supposed to be simple – get into the Kobayashi compound, eliminate the evidence, get out. But he hadn't counted on the welcome party waiting for him, and soon enough, eliminating the evidence took on a whole new meaning. _

_Aoshi hadn't been scared. At sixteen, he had been in worse situations during the last six years of his life. But something didn't feel right then, and he was grateful when Hannya turned up. _

_Then instinct kicked in._

_Aoshi grabbed Hannya's arm and raced for the window, the older man a step behind him. "Move it, Hannya. This place is going to --"_

_A loud noise tore into the night, and Aoshi felt that he was being engulfed in flames._

_But there was a hand on his back, pushing him into the cool night. Finally, the darkness came._

***

Hannya's words echoed in his thoughts. "If you need a hand, boss…" After twelve years, the scars and burns he had received that night never fully healed, constantly reminding Aoshi of how it felt to fail someone who placed his entire faith – his entire life – in him. It was Hannya who saved him that night, Hannya who suffered the fate that should have been his. Aoshi had gotten out of that explosion relatively unscathed, but inside, it had marked him for life. He had vowed to repay the man's devotion to him.

Aoshi nodded. "I'll keep it in mind." He gestured towards the laboratory. "What I really need is for you to keep on monitoring our studies. With Beshimi finishing last month's report, you'll have to convince Hyottoko and Shikijyou to pick up the slack."

"All right then." Hannya shot him a wry smile, giving his already disfigured features an even more intimidating look. "Good luck, boss."

Aoshi grabbed his briefcase and headed out of the room. Hannya was there to watch his back, but Aoshi had promised to himself that he would always do things alone. He didn't want to hold someone's fate in his hands again.

The train for Kyoto was leaving in an hour. A long time ago, he thought that it would all end here, in Tokyo. 

He was wrong.

***

Somewhere, a phone rang. Someone answered.

The message was simple: "He's gone."

***

"I can't believe you forgot today was your own birthday!" Kaoru squealed at Misao, teasing her friend mercilessly all throughout dinner.

Misao laughed good-naturedly. "I didn't _forget_! I had so many things to think of that it just … slipped my mind."

"Same difference," Kaoru giggled.

Misao glanced at the small group of friends that had gathered at her apartment for her birthday. There was her grandfather Okina, beaming at her proudly from one end of the table. Beside her sat Kaoru, who was now handing her son Kenji over to her husband Kenshin. Opposite them sat two of Misao's friends from the Times – Shiro, a photographer and Okon, who was Okina's editorial assistant.

"I think Misao-chan was just distracted with yesterday's interview," Okon revealed, flipping her long hair prettily over one shoulder.

Misao turned red. "What are you talking about?"

Now it was Shiro's turn to laugh. "Why are you denying it now? Yesterday, you were all 'Shiro, do we have a good file photo of Aoshi-sama? Shiro, please hurry up ang get one.' You should have heard her!"

"I did NOT call him Aoshi-sama!" 

"Ah, but you certainly dropped the Shinomori-san somewhere along the way," Kaoru noted. "Pretty fast for one afternoon, I should say."

"Look who's talking! You were the one who was all over Kenshin the first day we met him in high school!" Misao shot back. 

"Oro!" Kenshin said with a light blush on his cheeks. Kaoru opened her mouth to protest, but her husband quickly covered it with a kiss. "You have to admit, koiishi, you were something else even then."

Everyone else smiled at the display of affection. Misao was grinning, too, but still her good mood was tinged with that unshakable feeling that this sort of happiness was not meant for someone like her.  

_Aoshi. Misao hated to admit it, but the others were right. She had been thinking a little too much about the scientist ever since her interview with him. But how could she not? The man was an enigma. He was everything she was not – the steady silence to her incessant chatter, the ice to her fire. Yet he had met her on her terms yesterday, and challenged her in her own territory._

Plus, he had those eyes that seemed to take her measure, but didn't find her lacking.

Misao sighed. That was yesterday; he was just an assignment. Unless she decided to take up residence in the University, there was only the ghost of a chance that she would see him again. That was when she noticed her grandfather looking at her closely.

"You okay, Jiya?" Misao asked, using her special nickname for Okina. "You've been awfully quiet tonight. Not enough women here for your liking?"

Okina forced a laugh. "Excuse me, everyone, but I hope you won't mind if I take Misao-chan for a little walk around the block, will you?"

"As long as you don't mind if I finish all the food," Shiro replied. Everyone laughed at the thought, because Shiro had a lean build and was completely obsessed with keeping fit. As Misao excused herself to join Okina waiting in the hall, she heard the faint sounds of good-natured teasing. 

"What's wrong, Jiya?" Misao demanded as she tried to keep up with Okina's longer strides. There was an elevator on her floor, but Okina had quickly headed for the stairs. Misao had no choice but to follow him seven flights down.

"How old are you now, Misao?" her grandfather asked instead. He looked at her with that strange sad look in his eyes, the same way he had regarded her all through dinner.

"Eighteen," she lied without missing a beat. But when she caught a glimpse of Okina's serious expression, she dropped the banter. "Twenty-two, why?"

Okina sighed. "There's no prolonging this, then."

Misao looked up at him, wrinkling her forehead at his cryptic remark. "Prolonging what? Jiya, you're starting to scare me. We're both reporters here; just give me the facts."

Okina stopped. They had reached the apartment lobby, and were standing in front of the building's entrance. A cool breeze wafted into the room since the door was wide open, and Misao could tell that he was still hesitating.

She reached out and shut the door. No escape now.

"I promised your father that I'd tell you this when you turned twenty-one," he confessed. "But I kept putting it off because I didn't know where to begin."

Misao's breath caught in her throat. Okina hadn't spoken about her father in a long time. "What is it?"

"Forgive me for not telling you sooner, Misao-chan," Okina said, placing his hands on her shoulders. Misao could see that his eyes were wet with unshed tears.

"I am not your grandfather."

And just like that, every truth she had ever known was shattered.

**End of Chapter 3: Things Left Unsaid**

**More Notes:** Not much romance – I'm saving them up for a rainy day. We'll get there soon.


	4. Sticks and Stones

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Disclaimer: Simple – Rurouni Kenshin? Not mine. This fic? You betcha.

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Without Words

4-Sticks and Stones

Keep it short and simple, that was the first rule any journalist learned. 

Okina certainly did.

"I am not your grandfather," he had said.

The words were as blunt as any knife, cutting through her better than any weapon ever could. Did she feel hurt? Shocked? Angry? Misao couldn't name all the different emotions that ran through her in the precious heartbeats that passed since Okina's confession.

Facts first.

Feelings later.

__

Breathe, Misao. In. Out. Then she reached for the best defense she had – a question. In this case, it was much better than the kunais that she used to practice with when she was younger. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" To her ears, her tone was cool and professional, betraying nothing of the intense feelings that occupied every nerve of her being. "Was everything you told me a lie? That my parents died when I only three? That you were the only family I had?" This time, her emotions were threatening to break through, making her voice crack on the very last word.

"Misao-chan," Okina said softly. "I love you as if you were my own flesh and blood. When your father placed you in my care, I never expected that it would be a permanent arrangement." He looked around at the deserted apartment lobby. "I didn't plan it like this, you know. I wanted to take you for a short walk to the--" 

"Please spare me the unnecessary details, Jiya," she interrupted hotly, brushing back the tears that snaked down her cheeks. She wanted to lash out at him. She wanted to take every inch of anger and throw it back, wondering how far she would have to go to hurt him as he had hurt her.

Okina sighed. "Yes, it's true your parents died when you were young – your mother during childbirth and your father… well, your father's death was mainly why I chose not to tell you the truth earlier. You know I'm your legal guardian. You don't have any living relatives left."

__

I don't even have you, Misao thought. Somehow the pain of being alone became bearable when she had friends like Kaoru and Kenshin, and a grandfather like Okina. But now he was telling her that he was never hers in the first place. 

"Your father entrusted you to me because he was in a dangerous position," Okina continued. "Just how dangerous we didn't find out until it was too late. He was a journalist, like us. So many people wanted to see him dead. In the end there were so many suspects and not enough evidence that the police gave up trying. And then there I was – a middle-aged bachelor who lost a good friend, raising a little girl on his own. I moved here to Tokyo and brought you with me, hoping that we could start anew. I promised myself that I wouldn't tell you until I felt you were ready. I vowed on his grave that I'd do it the day you turned twenty. But I just kept putting it off because I didn't know how… I hope you can forgive me, Misao."

"Is that even my real name? Misao?" she asked. The word sounded suddenly foreign to her ears, as if it now belonged to someone else, and she was a different person, faceless, nameless. 

Okina nodded. When he faced her, Misao finally realized that his admission had pained him, too. "You are my Misao-chan," he said softly, in soft broken syllables, "and nothing can take that away from us."

A sob escaped from her throat. The man before her now was the man who had patiently taught her kempo when she was just an overeager seven-year old. He was the man who had wiped her tears when she scratched herself with her own kunai. He had comforted her through stormy nights, understanding that behind her tough façade, she was just a little girl.

Moments ago, she cried before of the life she had never known. She cried now because she had ever doubted him.

As she let Okina engulf her in his embrace, Misao could only think of one other question. "How… How did my father die?"

Okina held her tighter, as if his arms alone had the power to lessen the sting of his words. "He was shot twice. In Kyoto." 

Misao could only stare through the glass doors of her apartment building, watching the colors blur into one hazy mass until every tint and hue was unrecognizable. Then she heard it, the unmistakable patter against the cement sidewalk. First a light drizzle, before pummeling relentlessly onto the ground.

It was raining. 

***

It had been raining in Kyoto ever since he arrived, and it was ruining his plans. Heaven forbid that he run around demanding retribution in a sopping wet trenchcoat. And to think that he had made arrangement for this trip a long time ago. He had gotten hold of a small apartment – nothing too fancy but not too shabby either – and even rented a car from one of Hannya's uncles. But most of all, he came prepared to battle demons he thought he had defeated a long time ago.

This day hadn't been any different. It had been fairly sunny when he had taken his black Subaru to visit a colleague at the University of Kyoto, under the pretense of checking out research. In truth, Aoshi had taken the opportunity to check out if he was being tailed.

He was.

It was a white Mitsubishi, no plates, heavy tint. It had noticed it parked a few meters away from his apartment the first day he was there. He had had his suspicions, but he ignored it for lack of damning proof. He hadn't seen it in the next two days, and it wasn't until today that he had gotten the chance to lure it into the open.

He had seen it next at the University, then at the coffee shop where he had stopped by for a short drink. Aoshi never took his eyes off it as it drove past slowly.

Shishio wasn't taking any chances. Neither was he.

He felt for the gun hidden inside his coat. He wasn't too crazy over it, preferring the kodachi he had used when he was younger. But it could do the job just as well – clean and swift.

"More coffee?" a voice at his side asked, and he turned to see the young waitress beaming at him. 

"No thanks," he replied, turning his eyes back to the crowded street, just in time to see the Mitsubishi's taillights disappear around a corner.

__

Time to go. Aoshi paid his bill and left.

But it had started raining again, and the streets of Kyoto had turned slick at the light evening shower. Aoshi didn't take his chances; he didn't know who could be waiting for him here. Maybe it was a mistake trying to come back, especially when he didn't know whom to trust. So he drove through the busy streets, always _always_ in the light.

And there it was again.

Aoshi picked up the speed, weaving his car in and out of lanes. But the Mitsubishi behind him wasn't taking any chances either; it crept closer with every second.

He shook his head almost imperceptibly. Shishio was getting rather paranoid if he wanted to take him out this soon.

__

Time to ride.

Aoshi raced through the streets, not caring whether the traffic police would catch up to them sooner or later. The Mitsubishi had the same idea, steadily cutting the distance between them. 

Aoshi floored it.

He hadn't felt this wild and carefree in a long time. As Aoshi led the other car to narrower roads and darker alleys, he wasn't at all concerned about staying alive. He knew wasn't going to be brought down so easily. If he wanted it to end, he could just stop his car and confront the other driver, and that would be it. But it felt good to be behind the wheel like this. Later he would stop toying around and get down to business, but for right now --

Then a figure ran out in front of him. 

Aoshi's reflexes went into overdrive as he slammed on the brakes and veered the car away. But the side of Subaru still hit the target, and the girl – he could see that now – was knocked back. Aoshi was out of the vehicle in a split second, ignoring the frantic sounds around him. Ignoring the protesting squeal of wheels that told him the Mitsubishi had turned around and sped away.

He scooped her off the ground, cradling her in his arms.

The face was pale and tired. But he recognized it in a heartbeat, as quickly as her eyelids shut over her flashing blue eyes. There was no way he could forget those eyes.

"Misao," he breathed. _What have I done?_

***

"This way please," someone said as he carried Misao's unconscious body into the hospital. A stretcher appeared before him, and before he knew it, two orderlies were already wheeling her away.

He brought her to a hospital because frankly, he didn't know what else to do with her. He had laid her across his backseat, keeping one eye on the road and another on her. She looked so different since he had last seen her, a little older somehow.

"Wait," he protested, a little too late. If he could, he would just follow Misao into the emergency room. There shouldn't be anything wrong with her now, should there? Maybe a few scratches and bruises, but certainly nothing serious. They'd be out of there in no time.

Aoshi frowned. Since when did he start thinking about him and Misao as a _we_?

"Sir?" A nurse addressed him politely. "Are you family? We'll need you to answer some forms."

He shook his head. "I'm… I'm just a friend. I knew her from somewhere."

***

The day had been long, the night even longer. Aoshi had been in more strenuous situations before, but nothing this exciting since he moved to Tokyo. But while his body felt the strain of the day's incidents, his mind was still as sharp as ever.

He climbed the last flight of stairs that led to his apartment room. 

The door was open. It was just a small crack, but he noticed it right away. He wasn't going to go down without a fight. Aoshi drew his gun and leveled it at the figure waiting for him when he burst into the room.

He heard a faint giggle. "Oh, Aoshi," a woman's voice pierced the night. "You always took everything so seriously."

She stepped into the pale moonlight that slipped through the window. But even without that action, Aoshi had no doubt as to whom it was.

"Yumi," he said.

"Is that all you're going to say to me, anata?"

****

End of Chapter 4: Sticks and Stones

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Author's Notes: Gomenasai, minna-san, if this chapter was a little late. I'll try to write quicker next time, but hopefully, without disappointing you with the quality of my work. Thank you to everyone for reading (and reviewing!) and a special thank you to Mara for all her help. I hope I can answer most of your immediate questions with the next chapter, so stay tuned!

About the title: I usually don't explain titles, but someone pointed out that it might be a little too obscure. A little hint then. Sticks and stones may hurt my bones but words can never hurt me. And in this chapter, guess how many people were broken? This show was brought to you by the letter S and D and by the number 0. Ooops, wrong program.


	5. Silences Broken

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Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin belongs to Nobuhiro Watsuki. I may be demented, but I'm not crazy enough to claim RK as my own.

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Without Words

5- Silences Broken

Aoshi gave the woman before him a cold hard stare. "What do you want, Yumi?" he spat out.

She crossed the room and stopped two steps away from him. Up close, he could see the pout on her perfectly-painted lips. "Is that any way to greet an old flame?"

"You're Shishio's woman now," he reminded her. They had been in their mid-teens when they met on a reconnaissance assignment for the Juppongatana. It had been a fiery relationship from the start, but Aoshi was too charmed by the older woman to listen to Hannya's warnings about Yumi. When Aoshi learned that she was having an affair with Shishio himself, he had been devastated. After that, he had thrown himself into his work, becoming the Juppongatana's main information specialist in no time at all. But that incident with Yumi had sparked the tension between him and Shishio, a seemingly-innocent rivalry that was fuelled by jealousy and suspicion over the years.

Aoshi had forgotten about Yumi the year after her indiscretion with Shishio. As she stood before him now, he tried to recall the girl he had fallen in love with underneath the hardened woman he saw.

"I came to warn you." Her voice was all business, with just the faintest tinge of concern. "You shouldn't have come back."

"Shishio and I need to talk," he told her simply.

"You came to challenge him?" she asked incredulously. "He wants you dead, Aoshi. Out of the way. Why do you think he let you leave the Juppongatana so easily? You have to be out of your mind to believe that you can have a little chat with him and walk out alive."

"If he wanted me dead, Yumi, he could have done that a long time ago. If he wanted me dead, it would have been Soujirou standing here instead of you." Aoshi shook his head. "He needs me. He needs my research. And until he's gotten what he wants, he'll wait to hear what I have to say."

"You're a fool to believe that you can reason with him. That's not how his mind works, Aoshi," she said with a sigh. "Listen to me. I love Shishio, but that doesn't mean I don't care for you still. He thinks you've forgotten your part of the bargain. He thinks you're keeping all the results to yourself."

Yumi looked at him sadly. "If this is about revenge, then walk away. Forget what happened to Hannya. But more importantly, forget about that last assignment. I know you didn't kill that man. But I know how his death was the reason you left the Juppongatana, that his death has haunted you all these years. Let it go, Aoshi. Give Shishio what he wants and let it go."

She headed for the door. "You've been very careful until now. But maybe you should learn to take care of other people – like that girl from Tokyo you were with tonight. You'll be surprised at how she fits into all this. You don't want her hurt now, do you?"

The door closed behind Yumi with a finality that echoed in Aoshi's ears. Did she mean Misao? But what did the journalist have to do with Shishio and the Juppongatana?

Aoshi walked to the closet where he kept his briefcase. In the dimness of the room, his fingers searched for the tape he had taken from her during their interview. He took it then because he wanted to check if he had inadvertently said something he shouldn't have. But after the first time he played it back, he found himself listening to it night after night after night. In the heavy silence of the evening, there was something about her voice that called to him, that broke through his walls and comforted him. In the briefest of encounters, he felt that he had known a part of her soul, and that was enough.

But somehow she had gotten involved in this mess.

Aoshi fingered the tape in his hands. Then with renewed resolve, he shoved it back into his briefcase and went out the door.

***

Misao gingerly opened her eyes. Her body felt sore, and even the simplest motion of stretching her arms proved difficult. She fingered the thin hospital gown that covered her, trying to recall how she got here. The last thing she remembered was a rainy afternoon in Kyoto, just a day after she had arrived. Misao had left Tokyo in a rush, eager to track down what happened to her father. Okon, her grandfather's assistant, had a college classmate who lived in Kyoto who agreed to take Misao in while she was there. Omasu was kind and cheerful; she even worked as a copywriter for the Oni Times' Kyoto office. Misao was just on her way back to Omasu's house when everything faded to black.

"Good, you're awake," a voice broke through her thoughts coolly.

Misao swiveled her head to see the lean form of Shinomori Aoshi stand up from a corner of the room. Her heart started to pound faster, and she knew it wasn't because of any drug or painkiller the hospital had given her. He still looked dashingly handsome in a black turtleneck as he did in a white lab coat. What was he doing there? But before Misao could open her mouth to ask, he already had an answer. "You had a slight encounter with my car."

"You ran me down?" she pointed out bluntly.

The corner of his cheeks rose briefly, in what Misao thought was his version of a wince. Even she didn't think they would meet again like this. "_You_ crossed the street without looking."

He was blaming _her_? Her eyebrows shot up, and so did her temper. "Pedestrians have the right of way," she replied. "Besides, you're not the one who ended up in a hospital."

Aoshi stopped at the foot of her bed. "No internal injuries, no concussions, no hemorrhage. You'll just under observation for the next twenty-four hours, then you can go." He paused. "Do you want me to call your family for you? I'm sure they'll be worried."

Misao felt all the energy drain out of her. Okina didn't know about the accident. That only meant -- "You paid for all this?"

He shrugged. "It was the least I could do under the circumstances. I'm afraid I haven't reached your family yet. I wanted to, but when the doctors assured me you would be fine, I didn't want to alarm them needlessly. Besides, I assumed they were still in Tokyo…" His voice trailed off. Either he wasn't used to saying so much in two minutes, or he was really trying to reassure her, so much that he was reasoning out loud. "Do you want me to call them?"

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter."

He regarded her with those blue eyes of his, but this time, they somehow seemed softer, gentler. "I'm sure they'd like to know."

"I'm sure if I had a family in the first place, they would be," she blurted out without thinking.

"Then what are you doing here in Kyoto?" he asked.

"Personal business," she replied, meeting him in the eye. "Same as you."

"Where are you staying?" he pursued.

Misao looked away. "A friend's friend." How pathetic that sounded. Here she was, stuck in a hospital, and the only person who was most likely to be concerned was someone she had just met two days ago. She sucked in her breath. She wasn't going to let a small accident get her down. Besides, didn't Aoshi say that she was fine? Misao could feel a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. When she looked back at him, her grin was its old uncontrollable self. "Don't worry, Shinomori-san. I'll be okay."

"Call me Aoshi," he said unexpectedly.

"Aoshi," Misao echoed, delighting in the way his name sounded on her tongue. True, she may have ended up in a hospital, but it wasn't every day that she woke up to such a beautiful sight.

"You'll be discharged tomorrow," he informed her. "Your clothes are on the bottom drawer of the nightstand." Then he turned abruptly and headed for the door.

Misao reached out her arm. "Uh, wait…"

He stopped by the door, but he didn't look back. "Be ready by noon. I'm bringing you home."

***

"What do you mean you don't know where you're staying?" Aoshi exploded, in a rare show of emotion. He was supposed to be driving her home, but at her announcement, he had stopped the car and glared at her. How this girl managed to survive all these years surprised him. Did she think that she could just smile her way through anything?

Misao folded her arms over her chest. She certainly wasn't smiling now. "That wasn't what I said. I said I don't remember. I was only at Omasu's house for one night before I got mowed down by a speeding vehicle."

Aoshi's jaw twitched. Somehow, all his Zen training couldn't help him around Misao. "I've apologized for that, haven't I?"

"No."

Her quick answer stunned him. "What do you --"

"You paid for the hospital bills. You offered to bring me home," she enumerated. "But no, you've never apologized. Not out loud." She faced him. "Look, Aoshi, I know actions speak louder than words, and I know you're extremely sorry for what happened. But sometimes… sometimes, there are things that can't be left unsaid."

Her bottom lip trembled as she said her piece, but her eyes revealed an inner calm, an acceptance of sorts. Aoshi realized that he shouldn't underestimate this girl. "I'm sorry, Misao. I truly wish this didn't happen."

She grinned up at him. "But then we wouldn't have met again now, would we? I think we should keep driving. I'll recognize Omasu's house once I see it."

Aoshi sighed and started the car. As he drove, he felt that same kind of release he had felt when he was running away from the white Mitsubishi the other night. But this time, with the sun on his face and the smiling girl at his side, it felt much different. Was he becoming weak? Aoshi summoned his stoic expression and kept it on his face. "So now we'll drive through the streets of Kyoto aimlessly. What if you just give me her last name and we can look her up in the book?"

"Uhm…" The sound was so ominous that Aoshi knew what was coming. He shot a quick look at a blushing Misao. "Actually, I don't know her last name."

Why was he not surprised? "Because you only met her--"

"—Two nights ago," Misao finished for him. "You catch on fast, Aoshi."

"And you don't know anything about this woman you're staying with?"

"She works at the Oni Times," she answered.

Aoshi suppressed a groan. What was it about him and journalists? Was he ever going to be rid of them? Here he was, trying to keep a low profile, and still he managed to get himself surrounded by journalists and reporters. "Maybe I can drop you off at her office."

"That would be fine," she replied. "Wait, I have the address written down right here…" Her hands dove through her pockets, until she finally fished out a small piece of paper.

She grinned and waved it in his face. "Hey, I have her home address here, too."

__

Amnesia, he decided. The girl just had temporary amnesia. Thinking that over and over again was enough to keep him from giving Misao a good-natured spanking. A picture of Misao sprang to his mind, sprawled across his knees, her warm –

"Look out!" Misao cried out, and Aoshi swerved the Subaru just in time to avoid an overtaking vehicle.

She turned to him with fire in her eyes. "What were you thinking? And you blame me for crossing the street that night? You're a menace to society? I bet you're just itching to throw your money away on a complete stranger's hospital bills--"

"Give me the address," he growled, desperate to change the topic.

She did and shut up.

***

They stopped in front of a modest bungalow on a quiet street. Misao could only faintly recall the house, but if the address on that paper said that this was it, then this was it. She turned to thank Aoshi, only to find his seat empty.

"Where--" She stopped herself when she saw Aoshi open her door for her.

"Don't get lost now," he told her.

__

Too late, she wanted to say. "Arigatou," she said instead.

"Maybe I'll run into you again," he said.

Was he cracking a joke? Misao couldn't tell. His eyes were the same icy blue that they were when they first met; she had no idea whether he was serious or not. Did he really want to see her again?

"I'll try not to pass out cold this time," she replied.

His eyes seemed to be laughing as he got back into his car and drove off.

***

"Where is she staying?" the voice on the other end of the line asked.

"A house rented by one Niitsu Omasu."

"Good work. Shinomori should have kept his girl in Tokyo if he wanted to keep her alive." Then with a loud laugh, he hung up.

Seta Soujirou smiled at the mobile phone in his hands. Shishio seemed to be having a lot of fun these days. A little paranoid, but that didn't matter. Soujirou started his Mitsubishi and headed home. Things were starting to get pretty interesting around here.

****

End of Chapter 5 - Silences Broken

Author's Notes: This fic is updated weekly, so I hope the wait wasn't too long. I also hope that I've answered at least SOME of the questions you have. I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, and I will be so pleased to know that you had fun reading it as well.


	6. The Price of a Lie

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Disclaimer: Check the first page. It's there somewhere. In a nutshell: not mine.

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Without Words

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Chapter 6- The Price of a Lie

Seta Soujirou thought he knew Shinomori Aoshi. As he followed the black Subaru from the nondescript suburban house, he recalled how the scientist's activities in Kyoto had been fairly normal, even unsuspicious – except of course, for that little drag race they had two nights ago. Still, after five days of trailing the man, he was willing to admit that Aoshi posed no threat to the Juppongatana.

He was wrong.

As Aoshi turned from one familiar street to another, Soujirou realized that his quarry wasn't going straight to his apartment as he had anticipated.

Aoshi was headed straight for Shishio's home.

He had his mobile phone out in a second. He should have known better.

***

Aoshi wiped the blood from his lip, wondering if he should have called for an appointment before showing up unannounced. Shishio wasn't making life easy for him. 

He looked at the bodies sprawled across Shishio's wide lawn. He had managed to knock three out of consciousness, but had only ended up breaking the fourth one's arm. It had been a long time since he'd gotten involved in a full-out brawl like this. Aoshi checked his watch to see how long it took him to dispose of this motley crew. Nearly two minutes. _Damn_, he thought. He was getting old.

Then he straightened. "Soujirou."

The younger man materialized in his path, smiling broadly under the bright afternoon sun. Aoshi could just imagine what this kid would be like on decaf. "Your kodachis, Professor," he said, holding out his right hand.

Aoshi contemplated giving up his weapons. Guileless as he seemed, Soujirou was the most formidable fighter in the Juppongatana, outside of Shishio himself. Aoshi had already left the group when Soujirou began making his mark, so he never had the privilege of battling the innocent looking youth. He sensed that he could count on Soujrou's word. "I'm not going to use it. I'm here on business," Aoshi said instead.

Soujirou's smile grew wider. "But isn't killing our business?" 

Aoshi nodded thoughtfully then extracted the kodachis sheathed underneath his trenchcoat. 

"Let's go then," Soujirou said as he took the short swords. "He's expecting you."

Aoshi let himself be led through Shishio's opulent home. Not much had changed since the last time he had been here. His eyes took in the landscaped gardens, the expensive paintings, the rare Oriental vases. Shishio worked hard to keep up appearances.

"I must say, Professor Shinomori," Soujirou began, "it took you quite a while to get here. After all, you've been in Kyoto for four days."

"I didn't know you were all anxious for me to return," Aoshi replied sarcastically.

"Someone who leaves the Juppongatana at the height of his infamy then returns more than a decade after isn't dropping by for a cup of green tea. You've had us betting when you'd make your move," Soujirou continued.

Aoshi gave a nonchalant shrug. "Believe me, this isn't making my move." _Not in the way you think_, he finished in his mind. He paused. "And I'd appreciate it if we kept things strictly professional around here."

"If you're talking about the reporter from Tokyo, you can take it up with Shishio. I just follow instructions. But you have to admit, Professor, those are the hazards of the job."

"She's not involved, Soujirou. Keep her out of this," Aoshi warned. It took him a supreme effort to keep the growl from his voice. He didn't know how protective he was of Misao. Maybe when you ran someone over, it was only logical that you would want to spare her from the rest of the world's harms.

Soujirou stopped and looked back at Aoshi with a smile. "She's with you, Professor. That means she's involved." He gestured towards a closed door. "He's waiting."

Aoshi steeled himself and walked inside.

"Shinomori."

The raspy voice was unmistakable. Aoshi stared straight into Shishio Makoto's eyes. The leader of the Juppongatana was lounging in an executive chair, a pipe held tightly in his right hand, as if he didn't have a care in the world. But Aoshi knew that underneath the casual manner was a deadly foe, a fiery killer. The bandages that wrapped Shishio's body were testament to the many battles the man had fought and won. As far as Aoshi could remember, the older man had always worn those bandages. According to Yumi, he was burned during a military ambush and that it was a miracle that he was still alive after that. It took much more than a little heat to kill someone as lethal as Shishio. But after that, he was a changed man. The accident had altered something in him physically, allowing him to utilize fire in his battles – but at great risk to his health. 

"How's my research, Shinomori?" Shishio demanded. "I trust you haven't forgotten our little arrangement. It's funny how the distance can sometimes cloud the mind."

"I haven't forgotten," Aoshi replied. "I find you a way to contain your ability, you cut all ties with me."

"Simply put, you do what I want and I don't ruin your career. Let me remind you that you're more concerned with your reputation than I am, Shinomori," Shishio sneered. "So, what brings you to Kyoto? Come to give me my results?"

Aoshi shook his head. "I'll give you all the information I have, Shishio. My research on mitochondrial biogenesis is the furthest that anyone has gone in the field. But it all ends here." 

"What do you mean? Our agreement was for a cure," Shishio reminded him with narrowed eyes, leaping from his chair. "Not for incomplete information."

"The results aren't ready," Aoshi replied. "Not this year, not the next one, or the one after that. It will take years before I can use my research to find a cure for your condition. And I can't spend the rest of my life being your lapdog."

"I thought I made myself clear. I let you walk out of the Juppongatana alive. Hell, I even let you take your useless sidekick Hannya with you. All you had to give me in return is a way to keep my body alive, to keep this curse from weakening me. You'd think that with all those years, you'd have come up with something by now."

Aoshi stood his ground. "Genetics isn't a game. You can't bend it to your will just as you do everything else. You'll get all the results I have. But I'm through working for you, Shishio. One way or the other, it ends today."

"Without me, your department, your research grant will lose their funding," Shishio said. "Is that what you want? Do you want to be rid of me and your past so much that you'll risk your future?"

"I refuse to live in your shadow anymore."

There it was. Aoshi had said it. He wanted to do this the right way, as straightforward as he could. His conscience demanded it. But if Shishio came after him this time, then he was free to fight back, because there was nothing that bound him to the Juppongatana. After twelve years, he was finally free.

"If you're lying to me, Shinomori, if I find out that you're keeping something," Shishio threatened, "there will be hell to pay."

The full impact of Shishio's words hit Aoshi. He was letting him go.

Aoshi turned around and walked away. Was it going to be this easy? He could feel Shishio's eyes blazing through his back. As he closed the door behind him, he realized that while he was through with Shishio, Shishio wasn't through with him just yet.

***

"Okay, so tell me you spent the night with a hot guy," Niitsu Omasu nearly screeched when she found Misao setting the dining table for dinner.

Misao grinned mischievously. "I spent the night with a hot guy."

"You're a fast worker, girl," her new friend said admiringly. "I've lived in Kyoto all my life and I still haven't found a good catch. You've been here, what… a day? Two? Where'd you pick him up?"

"Actually, _he_ picked _me_ up," Misao corrected with a laugh, launching into the events of the past twenty-four hours. Omasu was shocked to hear that Misao had been in a hospital all this time, but she marveled at how the younger girl took everything in stride. 

"Are you sure you're okay? Do you want to call your grandfather?" Omasu asked.

Misao handed Omasu a bowl of katsudon. "He wasn't exactly supportive of my coming here to Kyoto. But I'm okay now, so there's really no need to worry him, right? I'm perfectly healthy."

Omasu dug into the katsudon. "So don't you think it's fate? Meeting Aoshi here, I mean?"

"Maybe. I don't know. I came here looking for something else, after all." Misao leaned into her chair, frowning slightly. "Which I would have been working on if I didn't get so sidetracked."

Omasu smiled. "Got a headstart on you then." She got up from the table and rifled through her backpack. "Makimachi Ichiro. More popularly known by his pseudonym Hideki Ichitaka. Editor of the Oni Times Kyoto edition, from 1974 until his death in 1981." She handed Misao a thick brown folder and two diskettes. "I have everything there – well, at least, everything that's not classified."

"Thanks, Omasu," Misao acknowledged as she thumbed through the folder with slightly trembling fingers. In all her life, she had never been closer to her father than she was now. The folder contained articles and editorials, even a few photos and personal information. She took out a passport-size picture of a man in his early thirties, clear blue eyes smiling at the camera. The date on the back said it was taken in 1978. What was his life like then? Was he married? Was he happy? Misao felt the faint pricking of hot tears, but she brushed them away with an impatient hand.

"I even photocopied some articles on his murder," Omasu finished quietly, sensing that this was a painful moment for Misao.

Misao flipped to the back of the folder. She skimmed the papers with the trained eye of a professional. The details were all the same: The body was found with two gunshot wounds to the head. No witnesses. No suspects. No motive for killing. Police had declared that Makimachi was likely caught in the crossfire of a gang war. The case was closed.

Misao focused on the officer in charge of the case. His name was Sadojima Hoji.

Tomorrow, she would find her answers. But that night, she would learn what questions to ask.

***

Like most floods it started in a trickle, until it swelled to the size of a sea against the unsuspecting sand. Misao worked like a woman possessed, riding the waves of emotion that surfaced as she poured over the memories her father had left behind. In her mind, she saw a young passionate journalist coming to life as she pieced him together. At twenty-three, he had been a correspondent to the Korean War, where he had earned the respect and admiration of his colleagues, among them an older photojournalist named Kashiwazaki Nenji, but whom Misao knew as her grandfather. At twenty-eight, he became the youngest editor in the history of the Oni Times. At thirty-three, he married his childhood sweetheart, a well-bred woman who died giving birth to a healthy girl. 

And at thirty-five, he was found dead in a Kyoto alley.

In the quiet of the night, Misao felt herself orphaned a second time. She cried for the man she had found and lost in the space of one evening. Maybe Okina was right. It was useless to pursue her father's killer, when everything had happened so long ago. Maybe she should just go back to Tokyo now, and live her quiet life. She had found what she came here for – a key to her past, a face to the name that she carried.

But Kyoto was a maze of endless mystery, of question upon question.

Misao was a journalist; she knew the power of even the simplest word. There was a secret here that waited for her, and she wasn't about to walk away from it just yet.

***

She woke up early to the sound of the doorbell. Misao checked her watch. 7:00. She figured Omasu was still asleep. Journalists kept all kinds of late hours.

She stretched a little before hurrying out her room. She was a guest here, so she might as well do Omasu a favor by letting her sleep in. "Coming," she called out.

Misao opened the door the tiniest crack. A young man her age was standing by the gate, smiling broadly at her that she couldn't help but smile back. "Yes?" she asked tentatively.

"Ohayou," the man greeted. "I just moved in next door, and I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about the neighborhood."

Misao opened the door wider. His smile had won her over, sweet and charming as it was after a night like the one before. "Is that all?"

"You don't mind, do you?" he asked politely. "By the way, I'm Seta Soujirou." 

****

End of Chapter 6-The Price of a Lie

Author's Notes: I said weekly, and here it is :) I can't recall if Misao's dad was given a name in the manga, so you'll have to forgive my little fabrications here and there. This was a serious chapter, a heavy one to write. Both Aoshi's and Misao's parts were very anger-driven. Think you can stick around for next week? I've got something lighter in store for you. 

This chapter was brought to you by the letter F – for _finally_. 


	7. All Things

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Disclaimer: RK belongs to Nobuhiro Watsuki. If it were mine, I'd marry everyone off in a heartbeat.

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Without Words

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Chapter Seven- All Things

It was morning, and Aoshi wondered where the night had gone.

He had always been of the night, cloaked in midnight shadows. He barely remembered his father; as a child, it was his mother who brought him to school. She died when he was very young, leaving him to be shipped off to a distant relative. But the man he called uncle didn't want anything to do with him, and soon Aoshi was left to his own devices. He stopped going to school, eventually running away with a group of half a dozen other kids. Occasionally, a group of men and women looked in after them, and that was whom he considered his family. Those years were probably the brightest of his childhood, falling apart when the adults drifted their own way. Aoshi and a few others were picked up by the Juppongatana, and that had sealed his fate.

He grew up too fast, too soon.

During the day, they sent him to school – a silent child, but incredibly brilliant. But at night, he turned into one of them – a man trapped in a boy's body. At the Juppongatana, there was nothing he couldn't find out. First they sent him on errands to gather small details. But Aoshi was a quick learner, and soon he used his speed and street-smart skills to become one of the organizations' go-to men at a young age. Fights and shootouts had been part and parcel of the job; he only shrugged them aside with the practiced ease of someone who was raised in violence. Then he met Yumi and came straight into Shishio's line of fire.

But Aoshi was too smart for his own good. He learned more than what was needed, thinking that that would make him indispensable. He dreamt of entering the top university and pursuing a degree in science. But knowledge came with a price. He knew too much.

His first hint was the incident at the warehouse, where Hannya had earned his battle scars. The next was a little raid that turned into a frame-up; luckily, he had fled the scene of the crime just in time. The third was the real test – a real target, a real death.

First, Aoshi had refused. Up until that point, all he ever really took out were street punks and hoodlums that got in the way. Occasionally, he was assigned to eliminate top members of rival gangs. But never an innocent man. He knew that kind of thing happened all the time. He had to blind not to know that innocent people paid the price in the life they lived. But Shishio had never assigned him to such a hit before.

The marked man was a nobody. Just an old man who had been at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Thinking back on those years, Aoshi turned in his bed. Sleep did not come easier for him now, despite knowing that he had walked away from the largest underground organization in Kyoto, maybe even in all of Japan. And here he thought that he had paid enough for his sins.

That time, just like any assignment, Aoshi prepared for his prey. He found out all the details – where the man lived, what time he slept, how many grandchildren he had. And most of all, he found out that Miyazawa Tadao had been the only witness to a murder Shishio had committed a long time ago, back in 1981.

But Miyazawa had kept quiet all this time. Everyone knew he wasn't going anywhere. Still Shishio had wanted him eliminated. And he wanted Aoshi to do the job.

Shishio offered Aoshi a college education. He offered him the future. In exchange, all Aoshi had to do was promise to take out this one last hit.

It was a test. And Aoshi had passed.

In 1991, a decade after the mysterious death of Kyoto editor Hideki Ichitaka, old Miyazawa Tadao was found dead in his sleep. Police had found traces of poison in his bloodstream, but no one could think of a motive for murder. The case was closed.

***

There was a newspaper shoved under his door when he stood from his bed. As Aoshi walked to retrieve it, he recognized Yumi's handwriting in bold red letters all over one page.

"You said she knew nothing."

It was a Tokyo paper – the Oni Times' Sunday supplementary. Yumi had opened it to Misao's article, and she had encircled one paragraph.

Aoshi skimmed it, his eyes narrowing into slits as he took in the words. "…Professor Shinomori will be adding his research to the university's concentrated efforts to combat disease..." Innocent words. Anyone would have overlooked it.

But not Shishio.

Aoshi knew he hadn't specifically said that. If he were a different person, he probably would – and it probably wouldn't have mattered if he didn't. Maybe she had quoted it from an interview with the dean. Or maybe it was her hopeful that made had her add that. She meant well, he knew. But she had presumed too much.

Now Shishio would think that Aoshi had double-crossed him, that he had given up all his findings to the university.

And to get to Aoshi, Shishio wouldn't pass up the young reporter who seemed to know much more. But this time, Aoshi wouldn't let another innocent die for his sake.

***

Seta Soujirou smiled at Misao. "Do you know where the nearest convenience store here? I need to pick up a few supplies."

She stepped out of the door, shielding her eyes from the slight glare. She didn't know which was brighter – the early morning sun or Soujirou's smile. "Turn right at the corner, and walk a couple of houses down. It's just a small grocery store, but it has all the essentials," she pointed out, proud to have a ready response to his query. After Aoshi had dropped her off yesterday, she took the liberty of checking the neighborhood out so that she would be ready next time someone ran her down and asked to know where she lived.

"It's certainly a nice morning for a walk," Soujirou suggested shyly. "Maybe you might want to take a little stroll in that direction."

Misao smiled inwardly as she weighed her options. She had a lot of things planned, but he was right – the morning was too good to waste. Years of working in journalism had taught her not to take things at face value, but there was something about Soujirou that invited her in, that made her feel warm inside. She closed Omasu's door behind her. The past couple of days had been stressful. She definitely needed a break – even if it was just a short ten minute walk around the block. Besides, if this guy turned out to be a total psycho, at least it was broad daylight – and Misao knew that she could defend herself, kunai or no kunai. "Okay, maybe I'll head down in that direction."

"You've been here long?" he asked, as Misao joined him on the street and they set out for the store.

"A few days," she answered. "You, when did you move in?"

Soujirou gave a short laugh. "Just last night. I just bought an old futon and a week's change of clothes. Which is why I really need to stop by this convenience store."

"Usually I just buy instant ramen," she told him. "That's enough to tide me through assignments in remote places. Believe me, I know what I'm talking about. When it's work, you have to forego all luxuries." Misao wondered why she was so talkative this morning. Maybe it was something in Soujirou's expression.

"Really? You get to go to different places because of work?" He turned to her. "What a coincidence. I'm here because of work, too."

***

Aoshi rang the doorbell continuously. When no one answered after what seemed to be an entire minute, he lost his patience and vaulted across the low gate. Normally he never let panic overtake him this quickly. But this was an innocent girl, he reminded himself. Someone who didn't know what she was getting into when she wrote that article. At this very moment she could be in the hands of the Juppongatana, and heaven knows what Shishio would do to her to find out what she knew. The strange irony of it all is that she knew nothing. He was about to force the door open when a sleepy young woman answered. Her eyes widened immediately when she saw him standing on her doorstep.

"Where's Misao?" he demanded immediately before she could scream. She tried to close the door but Aoshi was too fast for her.

Still she stood her ground. "Get out of here before I call the police."

Aoshi shook his head, trying to regain his composure. He gave her a deep bow. "I'm sorry for frightening you. My name is Shinomori Aoshi, and I have something important to tell Misao. Will you please tell me where she is?"

The girl seemed to have calmed down, but there was still a wary look in her eyes. "She left. I woke up this morning and she was gone."

"Do you know where she is? It's really very important that I find her right away," he pressed on.

"She didn't leave a note. Maybe you should --" She broke off in mid-sentence, her attention caught by something beyond his shoulder. "There she is!"

Aoshi turned. Misao was there, looking as bright and cheerful as ever as she carried a container of eggs. And beside her was –

Seta Soujirou.

Aoshi leapt toward the street, his fist coming into straight contact with Soujirou's jaw.

"Aoshi?" she cried out. "What the hell are you doing?"

He chose to answer her by trying to bury another fist into Soujirou's stomach. But the younger boy was ready for him now, and Soujirou dodged his swing. "Listen, I --"

Aoshi grabbed him by the collar and hauled him out of earshot. The boy didn't protest. "You stay away from her, Seta," he hissed. "She knows nothing!"

Soujirou regarded him with those innocent eyes of his. "I was just walking with her. If I wanted her dead, Professor, it would have been over the instant I saw her."

"Then what are you doing here?"

Before he could catch Soujirou's response, Aoshi felt a soft shattering against his back. He turned slightly to see Misao clutching an empty container of eggs. If it weren't for his waterproof trenchcoat, he had a feeling that those eggs would be seeping through his clothes and making a sticky mess on his skin. "Are you crazy? What do you think are you doing?" she asked him.

Soujirou took the momentary distraction to slip out of Aoshi's clutches. "You don't want any trouble now, do you, Shinomori-san?"

Misao stared at them in amazement. "You know each other? Aoshi, what's this about?"

But Aoshi never took his eyes off Soujirou. "Walk away, Seta." Then he waited for the boy to pick up his fallen groceries and head for his Mitsubishi. Before he drove off, he gave Misao a quick nod. "I'm sorry about this, Makimachi-san."

They watched in silence until the white car left their line of vision.

"Aoshi?"

He turned at the sound of her voice.

She glared at him with the heat of a thousand hells. "In the house. Right now."

***

Misao couldn't believe that the icy Professor Shinomori would end up decking her newest neighbor. She herded him inside the house, followed by a speechless Omasu. But just as she was about to give him a piece of her mind, he dropped the bomb.

"I'm not here to play games, Misao," he said. "Now pack your clothes. I'm getting you back to Tokyo."

The guy was a lunatic.

"Who do you think you are?" she exploded. "What right do you have to come running me down one day and then dictate to me what I should do the next one?"

From the folds of his ruined trenchcoat, he extracted a copy of the Oni Times' Sunday supplementary. Misao immediately noticed that it was opened to the page of her article on Aoshi. She looked up at him quizzically, waiting for an explanation. "When you wrote that innocent article, you messed with the wrong people. Now they're after you – and what you know. If you value your life, Misao, then you'll listen to me and go back home to Tokyo."

"A threat? You want me to go home because of a threat?" she scoffed. "I've had enough of those, Aoshi. One more isn't going to kill me."

"Believe me, this one will," Aoshi warned. "Seta was a warning. I don't know what he told you, but he's deadly." In one fluid motion, he headed for the nearest room and slid the door open. "Where's your room?"

Omasu was at his heels. "Uhm, Shinomori-san, I'd appreciate it if --"

But Misao was using more productive measures – or so she thought. She launched herself onto Aoshi's unprotected back, despite the presence of the cracked eggs that were already congealing on his white coat. "You're not going anywhere."

Aoshi ignored her and just kept moving from one room to the next. Misao felt her grip on him slipping, until she finally slid back onto the floor. If she weren't so mad, she'd be laughing her head off at the sight. "I don't think you understood me, Aoshi. I'm not leaving Kyoto until I've found what I'm looking for."

Maybe it was the stubborn tone in her voice that made him stop. "Then tell me what it is and I'll help you. The sooner you find it, the better. For all of us."

"Why are you so concerned, Aoshi?" Misao asked suddenly. "This is my problem, my business. I can take care of myself."

His voice was deadly quiet. "Because I got you into this."

Whatever he thought he might have done, Misao knew that she had only herself to blame. She wrote that article, but for the life of her she couldn't figure out what pissed them off so royally. But instead of telling him off, she lost her nerve under his intense stare. "I, uh, I… have a few things to do today. I need to go somewhere."

"Then I'll take you," he replied without missing a beat. "But you'll have to promise me that you'll pack your things and leave for Tokyo once you're done. I'll drive you back if I have to."

"I can't promise that, Aoshi," Misao confessed. "This thing means more to me than life itself. You said it yourself, I'm in danger. Doesn't that put Omasu in danger, too? What about her safety? Will you protect her, too?" She paused, daring to look at him straight in the eye. "You can't protect everyone, Aoshi."

Her words seemed to have hit home. She was grateful for his concern, but she wasn't going to let anyone get in the way of finding the truth about her father. He appeared to be struggling with himself, maybe debating if he should let her go or not. Finally, he spoke. "You're right," he said.

"But I can try to protect you." 

***

"This is Himura Kenshin," a familiar voice answered when she tried to reach the Tokyo police department.

Misao peeked at Aoshi waiting in the living room, and breathed a sigh of relief. She had told him earlier that she needed to make a quick phone call. "Kenshin, thank goodness!" He was her number one contact in extreme cases, and not once has he let her down. They had an efficient working relationship. She passed on information that dropped her way; he helped her track down everything from missing dogs to missing witnesses. Now she needed his help more than ever. "It's Misao, and I need to dig up any information I can on a certain Sadojima Hoji. He was the police officer that handled my father's case here in Kyoto, but I don't know anyone here at the local PD."

"I'll look him up through the database, but you might want to talk to the captain there," Kenshin suggested. "We've worked on a couple of cases together, and he might be able to help you."

"You think so?" Misao asked cautiously.

Kenshin paused. "Well… he's a little on the rough side, but he'll come through. If my search doesn't turn up any interesting leads, he's the man to go to. Captain Saitou Hajime. I can call him right now and tell him you're coming. Anything else?"

She took a deep breath. "I also want you to look up everything you can on Shinomori Aoshi."

"The professor?" Kenshin's voice held a tinge of worry. "Is there anything wrong, Misao?"

"Nothing," she assured him. "It's just that I need someone to trust right now. You'll call if you run into anything interesting, right? I left Omasu's number with Kaoru, but you can still reach me at my mobile."

Even through the phone, Misao could feel Kenshin smiling. "Just take care, Misao," he said. "Remember that we're just a call away if you need us."

"Thanks, Kenshin," she told him, before placing the receiver back in its cradle. Then she slipped out of the narrow hall and back into the living room, where Omasu and Aoshi waited.

He stood up when he saw her. To her surprise, he was already holding her suitcase in one hand. "What the--?"

Omasu looked at her helplessly. "He said you were in danger if you stayed here."

"I'll drive you around if I have to," he said firmly. "I'll drive you home if I have to. But I'm not leaving this house until you come with me."

She met his squarely in the eye. What she saw there overwhelmed her – an intense, almost desperate look. What had happened to this man to make him want to protect a total stranger? And worse, what made her believe that she would be safe with him? "Okay," she said finally. "Okay."

***

Aoshi waited outside as Misao gave Omasu her goodbye. He was itching to send Misao to Tokyo. He stood a better chance of convincing Shishio that Misao knew nothing if she was far away. What was the phrase? Out of the frying pan…

Misao stepped out of the house, her blue eyes a little shadowed. "Let's go."

He placed a light hand on the small of her back, so soft that she was barely noticed it was there. "So where do we go now?"

"Kyoto central police department," she replied.

… and into the fire.

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End of Chapter 7- All Things

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Author's Notes: This is the longest chapter I've written, dedicated to all my loyal readers, for sticking with me. I hope this answers MOST of your questions! Whew. :) Thanks so much for all the reviews and comments. Most of all, a special thank you to The Saffron aka Princess Jessica. _Akala siguro nila importante ka hindi naman._


	8. Breathing

Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin and its characters belong to Nobuhiro Watsuki. The only thing in here that's mine is the story. Now let me tell you all about it…

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Without Words

Chapter 8- Breathing

Some lines were never meant to be crossed.

Aoshi was well aware of that, having grown up distant, withdrawn. He knew all about privacy. He knew all about personal space. But this time, he could not resist overstepping the bounds of convention. "What would you want at the police station?"

"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies," Misao replied firmly. Then, changing the subject, she complained, "We could have stayed a few more minutes at Omasu's, you know."

He barely glanced at her, choosing to keep his eyes on the road than on distractions of the spitfire kind in a tight blue shirt. "Why, did we forget anything?"

"I was just thinking you might want to have that cleaned," she said, gesturing to the ruined trenchcoat Aoshi had draped across the backseat. He snuck a peek at her just in time to see her nose wrinkle at the smell.

"That's what happens when little girls get in between fights of grown men," he remarked.

Misao bristled. "_Little girl_? Who are you calling a little girl? Besides, what sane person wouldn't interfere when they see a psychopathic professor attacking their new neighbor? Look, Aoshi, I want answers. What could be so dangerous about what I wrote? And what did you mean when you said Soujirou was a warning? He looked like he wouldn't harm a fruit fly and there you were going all ballistic on him." 

"Seta Soujirou is the best assassin in the Juppongatana," Aoshi said, almost casually. "He's probably killed more people than you've ever interviewed. The next time we meet, I'll tell him that you were quite concerned with his well-being. I'm sure he's as concerned about yours, too."

His words seem to strike a chord. Misao fell silent, her hand flying unconsciously to her throat. Maybe she was thinking of the narrow escape she just had. Or maybe she was imagining the different ways she would have died by Seta's hand. But something he said tugged at Aoshi's thoughts. Something about how if Seta had wanted Misao dead, he would have killed her sooner. What did he want with the journalist? Even now, Aoshi wasn't sure why Misao showed up in Kyoto in the first place. All he knew was that she was here, and her life was in danger because of him. 

"Give me one good reason why I should trust you," she challenged. "You almost killed me two days ago."

She just had to bring that up.

"I didn't save you to watch you get yourself killed first chance you got," he snapped back, conveniently reminding her that he was sticking his neck out for her this time. He calmed himself before continuing. "You know I left the Juppongatana a long time ago. But there were certain things that bound me to them. I came back to Kyoto to completely cut those ties, for a price. Only now, your article has led them to believe that I may have betrayed them," he explained.

"You're not being very specific here," Misao said sarcastically. When Aoshi didn't respond, she tried a more serious tact. "But I didn't out anything there that wasn't true. I had my notes, my interview with you, my talk with the dean – they all check out, I swear. Meaning…" She didn't finish her sentence.

Aoshi knew what she was getting at. She thought she had all the facts. And if she had all the facts, then Aoshi was the one who was lying, that he really _did_ betray the Juppongatana. But he didn't want to tell her all the details. She didn't have to know.

He stopped the car and looked at her.

"Trust me when I say that your life is in danger. For your sake, and mine," he said. The words came so easily to him now. "But also trust that I'll keep you safe no matter what. I'll stay with you until this whole thing blows over. I won't let anything happen to you. But I need you to trust me."

Her face was so near, her eyes a startling shade of blue. "Why are you doing this?" she murmured.

Aoshi didn't answer. Couldn't.

Because he didn't know either.

***

The officer Misao met by the door pointed her to Captain Saitou Hajime's office. Misao glanced outside, trying to guess where Aoshi had parked. He didn't want to come with her, saying that she was perfectly safe inside a police department. She told him that she might take a while, but that didn't seem to bother him. In a way, Misao was glad that he had stayed behind. This was her business, and she didn't want him horning in. She took a deep breath and adjusted her collar. She hoped that she looked decent enough to meet Kyoto's finest on such short notice.

Turns out, she shouldn't have bothered.

The man behind the desk was lean and dangerous, looking her over through narrowed eyes that reminded Misao of a wolf eyeing his prey. A cigarette stick hung from the corner of his mouth. He gestured towards a pile of folders sitting above a filing cabinet. "Make yourself useful and bring those folders here."

"Me?" Misao asked in surprise, her mouth falling slightly open.

His eyes flashed gold. "Yes, you. Now stop looking like a shocked weasel and give them to me."

Misao dutifully closed her mouth and was already halfway to his desk with the folders when the full impact of his words hit her. "Wait a minute. Who are you calling a weasel? My name's --"

"Makimachi Misao, I know," Captain Saitou interrupted. "Himura told me that you'll be dropping by. Said I should help you." He took a long drag of his cigarette and looked directly into her eyes. "I don't do this often but Himura's helped me out before so… what do you want?"

She took out her father's file from her backpack and handed it to Captain Saitou. "I'm interested in tracking down a Sadojima Hoji, who handled the murder case of Hideki Ichitaka."

He waved her request away. "Hoji's retired. He doesn't want to be bothered. Besides, that information's classified." Captain Saitou cocked one eyebrow at her. "Hideki Ichitaka. The journalist? That was found as involuntary manslaughter, not a murder. You don't need Hoji or the files to know that." 

Misao stood her ground. "He was my father."

Captain Saitou stood up. "What are you really looking for, girl? Revenge? Retribution? He's dead. There's nothing more you need to know that isn't already in your files. Go home and forget about it."

"My reasons are my own, Captain. This is all I have left," she told him.

He measured her with a careful look. "Wait here." He strode out of the door, leaving Misao standing there with her knees slightly shaking. To be this close to the truth – _her_ truth – was unlike anything she had felt before. 

Captain Saitou came back with a thin folder and handed it to her. "Be quick about it."

Misao opened the folder to a black and white photo of a man lying face up on the ground. His eyes were wide open, and they seemed to be his only features that weren't covered with blood. One cheek was hollowed out by a gunshot wound. Another hole was found in the middle of his forehead. His mouth was left open, a silent cry. This had been Makimachi Ichiro.

In the numbness that followed, Misao barely recognized her own voice. "And the trace on the murder weapon yielded nothing?"

The police officer didn't bother to answer.

But the file in her hands just confirmed what she had read from Omasu's research the night before. With trembling fingers, Misao wrote down all the information the file revealed. The model of the gun used. The exact address where the body was found. The last person to see her father alive. And finally –

"I need a contact number and an address for Sadojima Hoji," she said, turning to Captain Saitou.

He took a puff from his cigarette. "Not possible. That's not our policy." He nodded towards the door. "Take what you have and leave, girl. The case is closed. Your father's gone. There is no story here."

Misao placed the file on his desk then took a deep breath. "I want you to reopen the case," she demanded hotly.

Captain Saitou gave a short laugh. "On what grounds? You have no new evidence, weasel-girl. Don't waste our time."

"But if I find evidence, you _will_ reopen it?" she pursued. "Do I have your word on that?"

"You're in over your head if you think you can find anything more about your father's death that isn't already there," he argued.

"Do I have your word on that?" she repeated, as if not hearing a word he had just said.

Captain Saitou paused. Then he plucked the cigarette from his lips and dashed it on his desk. "Come back when you find it, then we'll see."

Misao was breathing heavily. She knew this was all the concession she was going to get from Captain Saitou. She nodded slowly, "Arigatou, Captain."

He went back to his desk. "Go," he said, not bothering to look at her.

She did. She didn't look back.

***

He caught sight of her the moment she stepped out of the building. Aoshi pulled away from the curb and met her at the entrance. As he approached, he could see the different emotions building up inside Misao. He threw the door open.

"Where to now?" he asked.

But she didn't reply. When he cast her a glance, her shoulders started shaking. Her hands clenched and unclenched on her lap. A sob burst from her lips, a pained sound that tore at his soul. This was the cry of someone who has come to grips with her largest sorrow, her deepest loss.

When Makimachi Misao walked into his life, Aoshi thought that she was all innocence and wide-eyed ideals. She had no place in the cold world he had known. Yet in these past few days, he had seen her quick brilliance, her ready compassion, her seemingly endless optimism. And no one – especially her – deserved to cry with such pain.

Then without even thinking, he leaned forward and kissed her firmly on the lips. He felt the salty taste of her tears for a moment, then he withdrew. It was just a kiss, he told himself. A comfort kiss. A healing kiss.

But some lines were never meant to be crossed.

****

End of Chapter 8 - Breathing

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Author's Notes: I sincerely thank everyone who has read and reviewed my fic. I was so happy to reach 100 reviews with my first seven chapters, and it's truly meant a lot when people share their opinions with me – on my plot, on my characterization, on my writing style. Getting that many reviews was never my goal, but reaching it, I can't deny how rewarding it feels. Arigatou gozaimasu. 


	9. Equal Mysteries

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Disclaimer: Nobuhiro Watsuki owns Rurouni Kenshin and its characters. dementedchris owns nothing but her sanity -- and even that comes and goes as it pleases.

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Without Words

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Chapter Nine-Equal Mysteries

When Misao was eight, she nearly drowned.

The sea at Shonan had been was deceptively calm that day. Okina had brought her there on a company outing with the rest of the Oni Times, and she had waded too far into the water. The next thing she knew, she was surrounded by huge waves, pulling her under. Misao struggled for control, her legs seeking the sandy beach in vain, her arms clutching at nothing. She opened her mouth to scream, but the saltwater filled her mouth, cutting her off. 

Then she remembered a pair of arms wrapped around her chest, dragging her towards the sunlight. Nothing could compare to the feeling of the air rushing back into her lungs, of finding herself in Okina's worried embrace. Misao had been saved.

But seeing her father's lifeless body staring up at her from that grainy black and white photo brought back memories of that day. The familiar choking feeling, the sudden loss of air and anchor, the fear that clutched at her and refused to let her go. She forgot how to breathe.

Then, a kiss.

***

Misao opened her eyes to see a familiar face drawing away from her, his beautiful blue eyes hooded. Her lips were suddenly bereft of the warmth of his presence, and her heart suddenly seemed to have taken up residence in her throat.

She didn't want to let go.

With a fierceness that startled them both, Misao clutched Aoshi's face between her hands and pressed her mouth to his. She felt him hesitate at the contact, before trapping her lips between his own.

She didn't want to let go.

***

One minute he was kissing her; the next he was being interrupted by a loud tapping on Misao's closed window. A blonde, spiky-haired officer stood there, grinning at them. His words were muffled by the thick glass, but they got the message. "Take it somewhere. You're parked in front of the police station."

They quickly broke apart at the intrusion. Aoshi straightened up as if nothing happened, but not before he caught sight of Misao fumbling with her seatbelt. He had always depended on his wall of restraint to shield him from the madness of the life he chose. How can he let one girl change that so easily? He cursed himself silently as he pulled out of the curb. He certainly didn't mean for this to happen. Things were already complicated enough as they were.

The air inside his car was thick with embarrassment. Normally, he didn't mind the silence but since it was his fault this time, he decided that he should break the ice. "Misao, I'm --"

"Uh, I just want --" she said at the same time.

He looked at her just in time to see her blush. "You go first," she offered.

Why was he suddenly the one cleaning up all the mess? She kissed him, too! Aoshi took a deep breath. _Think of this as a hit, Shinomori,_ he reminded himself. _The sooner you do it, the better. _"Often, even people with the best of intentions end up in situations they cannot control. I apologize." Even to his ears, the words sounded forced, stilted. He cleared his throat as he drove on, not quite sure where he was headed. All he knew was that he would rather be somewhere else. "What did you want to tell me?"

But Misao gave no impression that she was offended by his blunt tone. Or if she was, she hid it behind a tight smile. "My lipstick smudged."

Very coolly, Aoshi wiped at his lips. Then he felt the gentle pressure of Misao's thumb tenderly rubbing at the side of his mouth.

"All gone," she pronounced.

"Thank you," he replied solemnly. He was afraid that if he said any more, his voice would betray him. All he wanted to do was tell her that everything was going to be all right. Granted, he didn't take normal measures to do it, but the results were the same. The last thing he expected was to be overwhelmed by his emotions like that.

"How come I don't see you with your glasses anymore?" she asked conversationally.

He was grateful for the change in the mood that he didn't mind answering such a frivolous question. "I only wear it around the university or during seminars."

"Don't tell me they're just for show," Misao said bluntly.

Aoshi kept his eyes on the road. "When you're young, people tend to take you more seriously if you look more dignified."

Beside him, Misao sighed. "I know what you mean. I've always started things young, even my job. It was really hard to gain everyone's respect when they think that I should be better off hanging out in malls or something." She paused, and from the corner of his eye, Aoshi saw her turn to him abruptly. "Hey, do you even know where you're going?" she demanded suddenly. "We had a deal here, remember? I thought you said you were going to drive me around, and I don't recall giving you any directions."

"We had to leave. Or would you rather we stayed at the police station?" he countered.

She made a tiny growl in her throat. He knew he was right. From her back pocket, she took out her ever-reliable notebook to check something out and recited out an address.

Aoshi knew the place. He hadn't been in Kyoto in a long time, but he was familiar with the narrow, winding streets, the local landmarks. He should have felt right at home. Yet as he turned from one street to the next, he had a terrible sense of dread in his chest. 

"Right here," Misao pointed.

The shop was old and worn down. The windows and doors were boarded up by wooden planks, with the sign hanging limply to one side: Miyazawa's Fine Fans. As it obscured an empty alley from view, the place appeared as if it had been abandoned a long time ago.

Aoshi should know. He was the one who killed its owner.

***

"What are we doing here?" 

Misao was surprised at the sudden coldness in Aoshi's voice. He wasn't looking at her and instead chose to stare straight into the distance. What tenderness she had found in him earlier was gone now, painfully reminding her of who really he was -- a man of science, a former member of the Juppongatana. He seemed so far away.

"I'm looking for someone," she told him. "Someone who can help me find what I came to Kyoto for."

"Stop playing games, Misao," Aoshi snapped. "What's this really about?"

She released her seatbelt with a snap. "Why are you being so nosy? I told you that this was my own business. This has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. If you object so much to being here, then leave."

Aoshi turned to her. "You owe me an explanation."

But Misao wasn't listening. She already had one leg out of the car when Aoshi grabbed her arm. "I'm not letting you out of my sight until you tell me what this is about? How can I protect you if you keep on jumping into trouble?"

"Jumping into trouble? I just came here to find the truth about my father," she answered, her forehead slightly wrinkled. He was confusing her with all his questions. What was he so upset about? "Are you all right, Aoshi? Look, I'll be fine, I promise. I'm just going to look around, maybe ask a few questions, and then we'll leave."

He let her go. As Misao stepped out of the car, she noticed Aoshi following suit. "My personal bodyguard," she smirked. "Put on some shades and I might fall in love with you yet."

He reached back into the car and retrieved a pair of sunglasses from the dashboard. "Maybe later," he intoned, putting it into his breast pocket.

Misao couldn't tell if he was teasing her or not. She tried to hide a smile as she walked towards the narrow alley beside the old shop. She could feel Aoshi relax slightly, although she couldn't think why. As she stepped into the small street, Misao's thoughts on him were slowly being replaced by fear and apprehension. Each step she took led her closer to the truth, to the place her father died.

The alley was a dead end, with a stack of boxes and crates stacked up against a chain-link fence. Even in the bright afternoon, the place was strangely cold and ominous. This had been the last thing he had seen. Had her father thought of her then, as he collapsed to the ground? Had he spoken her name in farewell? 

"Are you okay?" Aoshi asked, interrupting her thoughts.

  
She nodded. "I'll be in a while. I'd just like to ask questions from the people here, if you don't mind."

Misao braced herself for another set of questions. But they didn't come. Instead, Aoshi nodded towards the Subaru. "I'll wait in the car."

She was grateful that he let her do this by herself. She followed him outside, but stopped at the shop standing by the alley's entrance as Aoshi strode back to his car. She doubted if anyone could remember _anything_ about a random night more than twenty years ago. But if she wanted details for the night of her father's death, Miyazawa's Fine Fans was a good place to start. The shop was small, but the back led to an old two-story. Anyone there would have heard a gunshot. Anyone who happened to peer out the window would have seen her father's death. But the place was boarded up. As she surveyed the shop for an entrance, she couldn't help but feel that this was going to be a useless exercise. She shot a look at Aoshi, who was talking to someone on his mobile as he sat in the driver's seat.

"Excuse me," a new voice called out from behind her.

She turned to see a middle-aged woman standing by the house across the street. "No one lives there anymore."

Misao's heart sank, but she still managed to keep the smile on her face. "I was looking for the person who lived here twenty years ago. Would you happen to know where he is?" She took her wallet as she crossed the street, then showed her press I.D. to the woman. "I'm doing a little story for the Oni Times," she lied sweetly. "Maybe you can help me." 

"Then you're looking for Mr. Miyazawa Tadao," the woman volunteered. "He's lived there ever since I was a child. Unfortunately, he died ten years ago. A good man, Mr. Miyazawa. He wasn't rich, but he was really dedicated to making the best fans. Unfortunately, business wasn't too good during his last few years, and he hadn't exactly been right in the head, if you know what I mean."

Damn, Miyazawa would have been a good lead. His house was in the perfect position. "Any relatives?"

"The only one I met was a niece named Kaoko, but she only visited once in a while. Sometimes she still checks this place out. I think the family has problems renting it out. What did you want to ask him about?" the woman asked.

Misao gestured towards the alley. "There's a particular case where someone was found dead in that alley twenty years --"

"The editor?" she interrupted. Misao nearly jumped in surprise -- she had hit big time with this woman. But the woman was already speaking. "I was just out of college when it happened. This place was a hotbed of activity back then, but nothing as big as an actual death! And such a famous person, too! We were flooded by policemen and media for about a week until the news died down."

"Where you here on that night he died? Notice anything unusual?" Misao leaned closer. "You see, I'm doing a follow up article on unsolved crimes. I'm trying to pick up things that the police may have missed, just to be on the safe side." She smiled, hoping that it was sweet and trustworthy enough to gain her more data.

Her informant shook her head. "I was in Osaka when it happened, but I came back as soon as I heard. Everyone on the block was interrogated. Mr. Miyazawa, especially, since his house is the nearest. But no one noticed anything suspicious or out of the ordinary. Those days, there would be isolated brawls and fights between gang members, but nothing too alarming." The old woman squinted at Miyazawa's house. "My parents always whispered that old man Tadao knew something but was just too scared to speak up. But I don't think even the police got anything from him. He was such a kind man, a little of a pushover."

It was really too bad that he had passed away. "And you said he had died ten years ago?"

The woman nodded. "Mysterious circumstances, too. I think he was poisoned or something, but no one was too sure. His relatives didn't really pursue an investigation."

Misao considered the facts. Two deaths, one place. Was it just coincidence, or was there a connection? Did Miyazawa really know something about her father's murder? But he was gone, and Misao knew that even interviewing his relatives wouldn't give her anything new. "Do you think there's anyone here I can ask? A family that's been around here since then?"

"I'm afraid not," the woman revealed. "Most of the older families moved out after the murder, except for ours and Mr. Miyazawa. The people living on the block now have been here for less than twenty years."

Misao smiled gratefully at the woman. "You've been a great help, uh…"

"Akemi. Fukuda Akemi," she supplied. "You're welcome. I'm glad to help, so you can just feel free to ask questions if there's something you've missed."

"Arigatou gozaimasu," Misao told her sincerely before turning back towards the car. This lead hadn't given her exactly what she had hoped for, but at least she knew she tried. Her mind was mentally going over notes. Next stop, to look for Police Officer Sadojima Hoji.

***

While he kept one eye on Misao's petite form talking to some woman, Aoshi was punching numbers on his mobile phone. "Hannya?" he said as his assistant answered the line.

"Is there anything you need, boss?" the man replied.

He wasted no time. "I want you to duplicate all our research findings and have them delivered to Shishio Makoto as soon as you can. He thinks I've betrayed him and he'll be able track me down. I don't know how to make him believe otherwise. But if the files are with him, then at least I've got a shot at making him think I've fulfilled part of the bargain." He paused. "No, wait. Make two extra copies of everything. One for Shishio, and the other for ourselves. That's for you to keep until I get back to Tokyo."

"I'll do that myself," Hannya said. "Anything else?"

"You can also tell your uncle thanks for the car," he answered. "He might not be seeing it for a while, so tell him I'll just pay him for it."

Hannya chuckled. "I don't think he'd appreciate it much if his favorite vehicle ended up in a junk heap."  


"Not yet, anyway," Aoshi assured his friend. "I'll call you if I need anything." He turned his mobile off as he cast another glance at Misao. She didn't seem to be in a hurry to leave. For the hundredth time since he had seen her in Kyoto, Aoshi wondered what she was up to. There was more to her than what was on the surface.

Aoshi turned the radio on as he waited for her to return. "…police have identified one casualty in the recent explosion of the Kawashima building. The body of one Komayata Yumi was found…"

__

Yumi?

"…in the charred remains of the building. Operations are still underway to determine if there had been anyone else in the area when the bombing occurred. Cause of the explosion has not yet been determined. The Kawashima building was built in 1995 and has been leased for private office space…"

__

Yumi?

It couldn't be. Aoshi was numbed by the news. He and Yumi were history now, but he couldn't deny the pang of sorrow that hit him at her loss. How could Yumi be dead? Shishio guarded her even more jealously than all his treasures combined. There was no way she could have ended up in such an accident, unless--

Unless--

Misao's newspaper article. Yumi's warning in red.

Unless Shishio was coming after him, and found out that it was Yumi who had tipped Aoshi off.

Aoshi gritted his teeth and gunned the engine. Misao was already on her way back from her impromptu interview, completely oblivious to the car that was headed for her from the other direction, racing at top speed.

He threw the door open before he even came to a complete halt. "Get in!"

She didn't doubt the urgency in his voice. Misao dove for the passenger seat just as a hail of bullets rained on them from the other vehicle.

The chase had begun.

****

End of Chapter Nine-Equal Mysteries

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Author's Notes: The title comes from the Indigo Girls' song _Mystery_, where one line goes "equal partners in a mystery." Standard disclaimers apply. Thanks to my readers for sticking with me up until this time. More mysteries are unraveled, and chapters will no longer be sponsored by letters of the alphabet. They're now rated for mild violence. :)


	10. The Street Whispers

**Disclaimer: By now, you probably know the routine. Not mine -- not now, not ever.**

**Without Words**

**Chapter 10-The Street Whispers**

Tires squealed their protest as Aoshi backed the car out of the street, crouched in his seat to avoid the bullets that were headed straight for them. He had one hand on the steering wheel, while the other forced Misao down to sit on the car floor. Beneath his touch, he felt her wince slightly as one bullet took out their side mirror. She shuddered yet again when their windshield was hit. Aoshi was grateful that she was out of sight; that last gunshot was right on target. All thoughts of Yumi's untimely demise were now from his head. The only thing that was important now was to protect Misao from Shishio's men.

But the other car was relentless.

Aoshi reached the adjacent street and did a quick U-turn. He floored the gas pedal and the Subaru shot forward. "Are you okay?" he asked her, shooting her a glance. He imagined her to be scared out of her wits. But to his surprise, the journalist had her mobile out and was looking at him expectantly. 

"Got their license number?" she demanded. "We can call the police and --"

Another bullet hit their back window. Aoshi swerved the car and wove through the streets in an effort to lose their pursuers. "No plates," he replied. "Don't worry, it won't be long before the traffic police will be on our heels as well."

Misao tried to shrug his hand off her shoulders and push herself back onto her seat. "Stay down," Aoshi growled at her. He neared an intersection, cursing himself as he saw the red light that flashed at him. He had enough trouble as it was without having to worry about her.

"Are you crazy?" Misao shot back, as if she had read his mind. "Quit worrying about me and keep your hands on the wheel!"

Aoshi took her advice without another word, using both hands to control the wheel as he veered sharply to the left. A swift look at the rearview mirror told him that the other vehicle was rapidly closing the distance. There were about three people in the other car, a driver and two hitmen. Aoshi lowered his head as the barrage continued, riddling his Subaru with more bullets. That back window could shatter any moment now.

"Gun in the glove compartment," he called out to Misao.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" the journalist charged, rifling through the compartment to retrieve a .45. She gave him a lopsided grin. Aoshi wondered how she could still smile at a time like this. "Point and shoot, right?"

Easier said than done. 

Aoshi reached across and released the safety catch for her. But he had no choice; he had to depend on her this time. "Try not to get yourself killed," was the only thing he could say.

They rounded another corner at breakneck speed, and the Subaru jumped on the sidewalk, scattering pedestrians. The car skidded and Aoshi struggled for control, finally managing to bring the car back to the road. 

Misao clung to her seat. "I won't," she assured him. "I have you to do that for me."

Before he could protest, she carefully maneuvered near her window, keeping herself as low as possible. Then she flicked the window open, raised the gun and fired away.

She took out a headlight.

He barely even glanced at her when she scowled at him. "Don't say it. Aim higher. You're so predictable."

What the hell was she talking about? He didn't say anything. He didn't even _think it … yet._

She fired two quick shots just before they turned another corner. Now Aoshi realized why she had been aiming so low. Both her attempts hit their pursuers' front tire and the vehicle skidded crazily through the streets before slamming into a lamppost.

Misao's face was lit up with glee, just like a little girl opening her first present. She even had the audacity to wink at him. "Wasn't I good?" she bragged. "They should have thought of that earlier."

Aoshi fought not to look at her. Granted, she was quick on her feet, but the woman was insane. Did nothing ever faze her? "Where'd you learn to shoot like that?" he asked instead.

"I used to throw knives around when I was a kid. My grandfather helped me practice ever since," she explained. "I'm always right on target, you know."

_Not this time, he wanted to tell her. If she had been on target, she would have avoided this whole mess and spared herself the trouble. He had to shake some sense into her before she went running off to God knows where. He pulled over and faced her, ignoring the look of panic that briefly flashed through her eyes at the thought of them stopping after having a bunch of gun-toting maniacs follow them from one end of Kyoto to another. _

But Aoshi was no longer worried about them. "Okay, let's make things clear. No more little excursions for you," he told her firmly. "From now on, you have to listen to everything I have to say. Trust me on this, Misao. I won't let anything happen to you."

She was silent for a moment, dropping her eyes on her lap. Aoshi couldn't tell what was going through her mind. Then she looked up at him with a sad smile. "I guess what I'm doing can wait much later." Aoshi recalled her mentioning something about her father, and it was too bad that her search had to end a little abruptly, at least this time. She took a deep breath. "I'm putting my life in your hands, Aoshi."

Her clear blue eyes looked up at him so innocently that he felt a strange pang in his chest. From behind them, he could hear the distant wail of a police siren. It wouldn't be long now before they would catch up to them for disturbing the peace and breaking nearly every traffic rule in the book.

The wheels in his head began working overtime.

He grabbed her shoulders. "Do you trust me?"

"I just told you --"

That was all the reassurance that Aoshi needed to hear. "Don't tell them anything. But you'll be safer there than anywhere else. I'll come back for you, I promise." 

"Safer where?" Misao's forehead was wrinkled in thought. "Aoshi, you're not making any sense." 

But he had already opened his door and stepped out. Then he reached back into the car and dragged Misao to the seat he had just vacated. She squirmed under his grasp. "What are you doing?"

"You said you'd trust me, Misao," he reminded her. "This is the best way, I promise. I just need you to stay put in some place safe for a short while."

It seemed that the full impact of his words hit her only then. "You want them to arrest me so I can be safe at the police station?"

"They'll hold you for a couple of hours, but it'll be okay. I just need to do something right now and I don't want you around," he said.

Misao smirked. "I have seen a man pee before --" she began to tease, but when she looked at the serious expression on his face she stopped in mid-sentence. Aoshi wasn't laughing. "Okay, fine," she sighed, crossing her arms over her chest and slumping against the seat.

"Trust me," he repeated, as if to reassure himself. Then he took the gun from her hands and fled down the street. When he turned back, the first of two police cars had stopped beside his Subaru. He could see Misao staring at him through the windshield, as she slowly raised her hands in surrender.

***

"I need to call my lawyer," she demanded, as the same blond haired officer that had seen her kiss Aoshi earlier escorted her into a small room. "Don't I get one phone call? Don't I have rights? Hey, watch your hands, buddy!"

The officer sighed as Misao refused to enter. "When the traffic division said that they were sending me a little present, I didn't think they meant a headache. When we charged you with reckless imprudence and destruction of property, not to mention all those traffic violations, and you wouldn't say a word. Now you've got a mouth on motor-gear. What gives?"

"Phone call," Misao snarled. Damn Aoshi for putting her through this. And damn her for listening to him. 

"Fine," the officer gave up. He gestured towards the one hanging on the wall near the cells. "Make it quick. Or post bail. Try the latter and save us the torture."

Misao stuck her tongue out at him before striding towards the phone. She chewed on her lower lip. Now, who would she call? Omasu, probably? But what help could she be? Aoshi wanted her to stay put here, and her new friend would insist on posting bail. Okina was definitely out of the question. Love him or hate him, she didn't want him to suffer a heart attack at hearing that his precious 'granddaughter' was stuck in a Kyoto cell. But since she was going to be here for the rest of the day – and maybe even through the night – then she might as well make good use of the time and get some work done.

"Yes, this is Himura Kenshin," her friend answered when Misao's call finally got through. She didn't wait for him to say another word. Everything that happened in Kyoto came spilling out and Misao could only imagined the look on his face. She ended with their wild chase and how she got herself arrested on purpose. "Now I don't know where that idiotic professor is. But he said that he'd come back for me, so I'm just going to wait here. In the meanwhile, I need an address for this Sadojima Hoji and this man who was allegedly the last one to see my father. A Hanazawa Kazuma. From what I remember, he used to work for the Oni Times here in Kyoto, so I just need an address. Plus you still owe me for that info on Aoshi."

"Misao!" Kenshin protested. "I have work too, you know?"

"Two minutes!" the blond officer called out.

Misao rolled her eyes and ignored him. Instead, she turned on the charm as she continued talking to Kenshin. "But Kenshin, I'm stuck in this dinky cell with hardened criminals and that's all you can say? I'm not even asking you to spring me out, just this small favor. Just look them up for me." She dropped her voice slightly. "I know you won't turn me down, especially after everything I've done for Kaoru when she was going through labor..." 

Misao smiled to herself. That had always been her ace against Kenshin. That time, he had been assigned to a really important case at Tokyo headquarters, leaving Misao to look after her pregnant best friend during Kaoru's last weeks in labor. In fact, she had been the one who drove Kaoru to the hospital when she was about to give birth.  She could already sense Kenshin giving in on the other line.

"Okay," he sighed. "I'll probably have to talk to Captain Saitou to get all these information to you, and I'd hate to be the one to tell him that you managed to get yourself caught in all this Juppongatana stuff."

Misao brightened. "You're a pal, Kenshin. Thanks a million. You won't regret it."

"Why do I have a feeling that I already am?" Kenshin's voice grew serious. "I don't know how you get yourself into these things, Misao. Be careful. I can have Okina down there in a flash if you need help, you know. But once you've crossed the Juppongatana, I doubt that coming back to Tokyo will solve anything."

"One minute!"

Misao groaned at the officer's reminder. "Listen, I've got to go for more questioning or whatever it is they do at these things. But Aoshi said I should just shut up and that's what I'm going to do."

"Starting now?" There was a teasing quality in Kenshin's tone that she couldn't quite place.

"Yup, starting now. I _do_ know how to keep my mouth shut, you know. It's not like I'm going to start blabbering to the first person I see how all this mess started. You think that I --"

"Misao?" Kenshin broke in.

"Huh?"

"Shut up," he laughed softly. "I'll have the information you need in a few hours, count on it. And take care. Kaoru, Kenji and I are counting that you'll come back to us in one piece."

Misao nodded at his concern. She was glad that she could always turn to Kenshin and Kaoru for help. "Thanks, Himura."

When she replaced the receiver, the police officer walked up to her and squinted at her. "Finally. Come on, there's still a lot of paperwork before us."

Misao groaned. She hoped that Aoshi knew what he was doing, wherever he was.

***

The early evening air blew through Kyoto in soft whispers. It whipped through his hair like a lover's touch, belying the fierce tension that it carried with it. His rented room had been undisturbed, and Aoshi took the chance to equip himself. He might not get another opportunity later. 

His old kodachis were back in the sheath at his left. On his right was a small revolver. Shishio went too far when he had Yumi killed, when he went after Misao. Aoshi stepped out on the streets, boldly challenging Shishio's men to come after him.

He had things to protect.

And promises to keep.

End of Chapter 10-The Street Whispers 

**Author's Notes: **Gomen nasai for this slightly delayed update. I'll try not to let it happen again.


	11. Under Fire

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Disclaimer: Yada yada yada Rurouni Kenshin does not belong to me yada yada yada It belongs to Watsuki-sensei yada yada yada Does anyone really read these?

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Without Words

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Chapter 11- Under Fire

"You're letting me go?" Misao exclaimed, as the blond police officer ushered her out of the small cell. She wasn't sure exactly how long she had been there, but she guessed that it couldn't have been more than four hours. It was probably dark outside now.

The cop shot her a smirk and what seemed to be his trademark one-eyed glance. "Don't keep our hopes up, sweetie. But you're one cool customer, you know that? Seems you got someone verrrry interested in your little escapade."

He led her into a sparsely furnished room, with only one table, a typewriter and two chairs. A ceiling fan whirred noisily above them. Stepping inside, Misao was reminded of Aoshi's office at the University, a cold room. That seemed like such a long time ago.

Waiting for her inside was Captain Saitou Hajime.

"Chou, leave," he instructed his officer gruffly. "You, sit," he told Misao. Once the other cop had closed the door behind him, Captain Saitou took a deep puff from his cigarette.

Misao squirmed under the Captain's firm stare, but she tried not to show it. She had been arrested before, for 'trespassing'. She had been assigned a story on a touchy foreign affairs issue, and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs didn't appreciate the fact that she was hanging around the home of one of their top officials. But even that didn't merit her an appearance from the Tokyo Police Department's captain -- mainly because Okina and Kenshin had gotten her out of there quicker than she could say maximum security. Of course, now things were a little different -- she could hardly protest her innocence when they caught her in the driver's seat of Aoshi's Subaru. The blond cop had let it slip out that there was no one found in the other vehicle, and at that point, Misao renewed her resolve to keep her mouth shut.

But damn, this would have made a good story. She could just imagine the headlines: _Journalist destroys Kyoto, gets arrested. _Of course, 'destroy' was an exaggeration, but what the heck? That would definitely sell.

"Miss Makimachi," Captain Saitou snapped at her, jolting her back to reality. "Your earlier activities have been brought to my attention in more ways than one. You've got a bunch of people inquiring after you, including your friend Himura. Now if only I just had him to worry about." He made a low menacing growl. "I'm warning you, weasel-girl: I do not appreciate such distractions and interference in my work. So I'll make this easy for you -- tell me what I need to know and we'll drop all the charges."

This had the makings of a good deal, she could tell. But with Captain Saitou glowering at her like some rabid wolf, Misao reconsidered. What was he going to get out of it? Besides, Aoshi said that he would get her out. If she made a deal with the Captain, where would that leave Aoshi? "I have my rights."

Captain Saitou reclined in his seat, his eyes narrowed. "Witnesses have described the men from the other vehicle. Details are sketchy, but we have reason to believe that they were from the Juppongatana. Preliminary reports on the bullet holes in the Subaru you were driving showed that they were fired from unlicensed guns. It's no secret that we've wanted to eliminate the Juppongatana for a long time now, and we'll try everything. Even you." He leaned forward, startling Misao. "Now why are they after a Tokyo reporter? What did you find about your father's death?"

Misao's breath caught in her throat. Of course that was what he assumed. The captain didn't know about Aoshi, didn't know that this was about _him,_ not her. She could just say honestly that she didn't find anything, and maybe he would leave it at that. But by answering his question, she risked confirming that she was running away from the Juppongatana -- and who knew what the police would do about information like that? After all, she promised Aoshi that she wouldn't say _anything_.

"Who are you protecting?" Captain Saitou pressed on, as if he read her mind.

Still Misao kept silent.

Captain Saitou brought out a piece of faxed paper from his pocket and waved it in her face. "From Himura. Shall I read it?" But he didn't wait for her to answer. "Saitou," the captain said in his typical growl, "I have important information that I need to get to Makimachi Misao who, you will be surprised to know, is under your custody. Once she is released or has posted bail, please give her the addresses of these two men: Hanazawa Kazuma and Sadojima Hoji." He stopped and looked at her. "It's simple, Miss Makimachi. Answer my questions and you get the addresses. And then you can leave."

Misao looked at the paper greedily. If she could get her hands on those addresses, she could just walk away from this all. She would be free from the police, free from Aoshi. She would be able to find out about her father and go back home to Tokyo. She could feel herself weakening. But then a thought stopped her. Even if the captain set her free, she would be left to deal with the Juppongatana by herself.

Alone, again.

But she couldn't do that. She couldn't go back to Tokyo and have them follow her home. She had a life there. She had a family. Friends. She had to let things end here in Kyoto. Now she understood what Aoshi meant when he returned to cut his ties with the Juppongatana, because it was his only way to start anew. Now, it was her only way to reclaim her life.

"I'm sorry, Captain," she said.

Captain Saitou looked like he was ready to strangle her into submission, and she couldn't blame him. On the surface, everything looked extremely simple. Just as he opened his mouth to give her a piece of his mind, the door burst open and the officer named Chou burst in.

"This better be good," Captain Saitou announced. Misao was shocked to see that his gun was immediately drawn, aimed right at Chou's head. This man was scary. If this was the way he treated his subordinates, she could only guess how he treated everyone else. She choked back a gulp. 

But Chou didn't seem to be bothered with his captain's actions. Either he was used to it, she surmised, or he had a really good reason short of the world coming to an end. "Someone's posting her bail."

Her heart leapt. Was it Aoshi?

"Some guy whose face looks like it was trampled on by a dozen elephants. You wouldn't believe it," Chou laughed, looking straight at Misao. "Where do you get these characters?"

When both Chou and Captain Saitou escorted her outside, she understood what he meant. The man standing before her wore a dark blue, almost purple suit, but that wasn't what caught her attention. What did was his disfigured face. It was a grotesque collection of unhealed cuts and bruises, and it nearly made her cringe. She shrank back a bit when he stepped forward, but he smiled at her in a strange way that softened his ghastly features.

In his hand, he held out a pair of sunglasses. "He sent me," the man said simply, speaking in a low tone that the police officers could not hear, "and said that he should have taken your advice on the coat. Maybe then he wouldn't have left it in the car."

"Who are you?" she hissed. There was no doubt that Aoshi had sent him; no one else could know about their argument over his trenchcoat. But did he seriously want her to go with this man?

He didn't seem to take offense. "Boss calls me Hannya." Then he winked. It wasn't pretty. "Trust me, we're busting you out."

***

Seta Soujirou didn't dare attack the police department, although Shishio had been sorely tempted to so many times in the past. In a way, Soujirou had a lot to do with it, since he respected the amber-eyed police captain. He had always been intrigued by Captain Saitou's gruff demeanor and his fierce ideals, mixing together in one formidable opponent who chased them down as relentlessly as a wolf sought his prey. 

But his presence in the police's territory was not for attack. Not yet, in any case. Soujirou waited in the shadows, carefully studying the area for activity – like Professor Shinomori coming back to rescue his Tokyo reporter. He would be ready for it.

__

Makimachi Misao. Soujirou had only spent a short time with her, but he couldn't deny the faint attraction he felt for the professor's woman. She was bright and trusting, but when she stepped in between them to stop their fight, Soujirou glimpsed her fiery temper and headstrong courage. It was rare to see someone like her, someone who was not afraid of the consequences of her actions, but who still clung to her ideals. The women in the Juppongatana, few as they were, were certainly made of steel and fire. But they had become so jaded by the world they moved in, that they ended up being defeated by the same society whose order they sought to challenge and defy. Not that he was interested, of course, but well… Makimachi Misao was different.

And right then, he could see her being escorted into a dark green van by a tall, broad-shouldered man. He couldn't see him quite well from his vantage point. The man's features were barely distinguishable. As the van pulled off from the curb, Soujirou started his Mitsubishi in pursuit. She wasn't going to get away from him now.

He had his orders. A hit was a hit was a hit. But he couldn't take her out now, when it was still too close to the police department. But Seta Soujirou was a patient man. And he was only biding his time.

***

He wasn't a block away from his apartment when the shadows attacked. Aoshi dodged the first flying fist, executing a perfect roundhouse kick. The second caught him by the side of his jaw, but he was already moving away so the impact of the blow was considerably lessened. In one fluid motion, Aoshi unsheathed his kodachis.

Let them come.

***

"Okay, let me get this straight," Misao told Hannya. "Aoshi called you in from Tokyo and sent you to bail me out. Then we're going to hide out for a while until he takes care of things and decides that it's safe." She scowled. "What the hell is he planning to do, take out Shishio and the rest of the Juppongatana?"

The older man grinned at her almost sheepishly. It was a disconcerting expression to see on the face of someone who looked so menacing. "I admit that when you put it that way, it sounds --"

"Preposterous," Misao interrupted. "Crazy. Hare-brained. Completely whacked. You get the idea?"

"It's just that the boss is confident that he will succeed," Hannya announced. "I met him an hour ago when he gave those sunglasses to me. Trust me, he's ready for them."

Misao rolled her eyes. "God spare me from illogical men and their egos." In her hands, she clutched the fax that Kenshin had sent Captain Saitou. She had threatened, pleaded, and cursed until she could weasel her way to Captain Saitou's nerves. In the end, he had relented and handed her the addresses, along with her other belongings that they had taken when she was arrested – which included Aoshi's stinking trenchcoat. They asked her no more questions.

"They're following us, you know," Hannya intoned. "That's why they let you go so easily. It's been a while since the Juppongatana had conducted a public hit like yours today. You lured them out of hibernation. Captain Saitou's not going to like it if they suddenly disappeared now that he's ready for them."

She pointed to the red Honda that was so obviously following them since they left the police station. She knew that if she looked hard enough, she would see Chou and his shock of blond hair behind the wheel. "Tell me he's not going after the Juppongatana with that."

"Don't underestimate Captain Saitou," Hannya warned.

"I'm not underestimating _him_," Misao clarified. "It's his minions I'm worried about." She glanced back at Chou again. "Think we can lose him?"

"We can try," Hannya answered. "But we don't want to do anything too suspicious."

Misao hid a grin. Despite his deformed features, there was something endearing about the older man. He was like a protective older brother, a father even. And for one thing, he was extremely loyal to the blue-eyed professor who still remained conspicuously absent. But Misao wasn't going to sit around waiting for him to come.

"While we're at it," she continued in her sweetest voice, looking at the addresses in her hand, "maybe we can make a few side trips on the way."

***

Aoshi sliced across another man's chest with deadly accuracy. He wasn't in the mood to play around with these punks that Shishio sent. Was the man really underestimating him?

He heard the sound of a gun being aimed at him and Aoshi quickly swept the nearest attacker off his feet and used him as a shield. As he crumpled to his feet, Aoshi used the opportunity to bridge the gap between him and the gunman and drove his kodachi into the man's abdomen.

"You haven't changed, Shinomori," a new voice sounded. 

Aoshi's attackers hung back as a figure in gray and blue stepped forward. The man wore a slight mustache, and even though it was already night time, his eyes were covered by a pair of shades. Aoshi recognized him instantly, and understood why Shishio had sent all these other men. They were just there to wear him down before the main attraction made his appearance.

The man was blind, but he had honed his skills and his senses to precision. He met his enemies with a thirst for revenge, battling them in their own territory. If his opponent was an expert marksman, he took out his gun. If his opponent preferred hand-to-hand combat, then he complied. He was adept at anticipating his enemies' moves so he could counter them effectively. The man was deadly.

Aoshi readied his kodachis. "Usui."

***

They formed a strange procession, Soujirou noted – the green van that Misao and the mysterious man were, a red Honda that he concluded was from the police, and his own white car. As the van coasted to a stop near one dim flickering streetlamp, Soujirou did the same. He took out his own gun and adjusted the silencer. He could take her out now. He could take them all out now.

Such a shame.

The van's right door opened and a familiar figure stepped out of the driver's seat. Soujirou blinked as he recognized Professor Shinomori's trenchcoat, the same one he had been wearing this morning. He was surprised to realize that this was his mystery man, even more surprised to find him still alive; he had assumed that Usui would have disposed of him by now. Aoshi's back was to him, and the man began to walk away, struggling as if with a slight limp. Soujirou did not concern himself with Aoshi. That was Usui's problem, not his. In the Juppongatana, you did not take out someone else's assignment; it was one of the few codes of honor that they lived by. No, this time Soujirou was concerned with the reporter left in the van, as Aoshi disappeared into a nearby building, filled with small restaurants and cheap novelty shops.

After a few moments, the police officer in the Honda made his move. The car drove past the van slowly, and Soujirou took aim, ready to take both the cop and Misao out once he had the chance.

But the Honda came to an abrupt halt right beside the van, without any pretence of stealth. Something was wrong. A blond police officer alighted from the vehicle and threw the van doors open. Even with the distance, Soujirou heard the man curse. Then he was running, into the building where Aoshi had entered.

Soujirou was running as well. He should have never underestimated these two. As he passed by the van, he cast it one quick look. It only confirmed what he realized now – the van was empty.

***

His choice for a college degree had been a simple one. For years he had taken life for granted, toying with it so callously – his own as much as others. But in the end, he remained fascinated by it, sought to understand it beyond the dictates of religion and society's beliefs. Ever since he had left the Juppongatana, Aoshi began to hold it in high regard, a gift he was never meant to have.

But as Usui approached him, he could only think of the different ways he was taught to kill.

***

"Did we lose him?" Misao asked Hannya, who was cloaked in Aoshi's trenchcoat. It was good that she was so short; all she did was step on Hannya's feet as he walked away from the van, supporting all of her weight. Aoshi's trenchcoat did most of the trick, hiding her from anyone who would be watching from behind. Once inside the row of establishments, they both started running.

"I think so," Hannya replied. "It may take quite a while before he realizes we're gone."

Misao grinned up at him. "Didn't I tell you this would work?" They headed for the back entrance, struggling to increase the distance between them and the policeman. Once they reached the sidewalk, Misao flagged down the first cab that she saw, then forced Hannya's head down to keep him from becoming conspicuous. Then she rattled off Hanazawa Kazuma's address to the startled driver.

They sped down the street. Misao looked back, sighing in relief when she didn't see anyone emerge from the building after them or notice the red Honda at their feet. They were in the clear. "You can sit up now," she told Hannya, tapping his shoulder.

The older man looked at her curiously. "We were supposed to wait for the boss' instructions. I don't think he'd look kindly on you disobeying him."

"He's not my keeper," Misao retorted grimly. "We haven't heard from him since you last talked to him. Besides, I have you with me. No one's going to take us out." She tried to put on her game face but failed. In her heart, she knew only one thing: her life was in danger. If she died now, then she wanted to die with the knowledge of what really happened to her father. It was all she had left, all she had to hope for. She had lived a lie all her life. She wasn't going to die with it.

***

They circled each other, a faint smirk playing on Usui's lips. "I warned Shishio about you, coming with that journalist of yours. Of all people."

Something in Usui's voice told Aoshi that he knew who she was, a familiarity that went beyond the fact that she was becoming quite well-known in journalism. "What do you mean?" he asked quietly.

Usui attacked, his sword whistling through the air. The rest of Shishio's men gathered around them were deathly silent, almost refusing to breathe so that Usui could focus on just Aoshi's presence. Aoshi took a step back and used both kodachis to trap Usui's weapon. Usui kicked him in the abdomen and slid his sword free. "Don't play dumb with me, Shinomori. She's out for revenge, and she's using you to do it."

Confused as he was by Usui's accusations, Aoshi chose to ignore him. He began moving around rapidly, in his patented move. The Kaiten Kenbu was akin to water flowing, a movement so quick and continuous that it gave the impression of being at many places at one time. On someone blind like Usui, the move lost its visual edge, unable to disorient him with multiple images. But Aoshi knew that Usui relied heavily on his hearing, so by moving quickly he could still confuse the blind man, keep him guessing where he would strike. 

When Aoshi refused to rise to his verbal bait, Usui grinned. "You mean you didn't know? We were all fooled in the beginning. Even Shishio didn't suspect a thing. Shishio killed her father…"

Aoshi's technique slowed just a hearbeat at Usui's revelation. 

"…Your last hit made sure that no one would find that out…"

The words struck him more lethally than any weapon could. Miyazawa had been the only witness to the murder of Hideki Ichitaka. He had poisoned Miyazawa in exchange for his freedom. Aoshi tightened his grip on his kodachis as he sliced at Usui's chest.

But the man was ready for him, and Aoshi's attack only drew a sliver of blood. "Now I guess she does." Then Usui laughed as Aoshi clumsily parried his attack, enough for him to slice through Aoshi's upper left arm. "Pit you against Shishio, and watch the two men who kept her father's death a secret destroy each other." 

Who would have known that the search for her father would lead back to him?

In the beginning, Shishio had been after _him_, seeking retribution for the research that Hannya assured him was already on their way to the Juppongatana headquarters. Shishio had been after her too, because he thought she knew something important, and because he believed that Misao was important to Aoshi in return. But somewhere in the middle, Shishio had discovered who Misao really was. 

Usui dove for him, and Aoshi swooped low, his right leg extended, skimming the concrete in a perfect circle. The movement caught Usui off-balance, and the blind swordsman fell to the ground. Aoshi struck, but his opponent managed to roll away.

Aoshi's thoughts turned back to a pair of innocent blue eyes looking at him – sometimes burning with irritation and anger, other times flashing with wit. And of that one time, when they shimmered with tears.

Usui was wrong. Whatever Misao had found out about her father's death, he was sure that she didn't know of his involvement in it. Not yet, anyway. Otherwise, she would never have trusted him the way she did now. He had to find her as soon as he was finished with Usui. He had to make sure that she didn't find out the wrong way. Was she still with Hannya? Wherever they were, he hoped she was safe.

"Don't you worry," Usui told him, steel glinting in the night. "Shishio sent Seta after her."

Aoshi gritted his teeth and charged. His kodachis were a flurry of movement as they ripped through Usui. The blind swordsman was overwhelmed by the fierceness of his attack, his sword unable to block the kodachis that swung at him relentlessly. Aoshi placed a well-timed kick to Usui's face, knocking him down, the sunglasses flying from his face.

Aoshi's kodachis dripped dark red.

He stepped on the sunglasses as he walked away, crushing it with his heel. This time, no one stopped him.

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End of Chapter 11-Under Fire

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Author's Notes: I am not completely familiar with where Japanese police interrogate their suspects, so I took my cue from a movie I saw on a Japanese cable channel (thank God for Wowow).

I took so long in uploading Chapter 10 that I promised Chapter 11 would be worth it. Little did I know that it would take me even much longer. I really wanted this chapter to be worth it. I hope that I didn't disappoint. This is for really irked, Neonaph Dreamchaser, and chibi-angel. 


	12. The Sound and the Fury

**Disclaimer:** Never mine.

**Author's Notes:** Because it's been more than three years since I last updated this, I figured three things are in order. **One**, an apology. The story was there, but the drive wasn't exactly forthcoming. I took a break from writing fanfiction, only venturing forth every now and then, mostly with fics for other series. But the better news is that the fic is back, and **_almost _**done, as it should have been two years ago. I tried to somewhat smooth out any unevenness in the tone -- two years does seem long -- but ultimately, you are the judge. **Two**, a recap. I've included a little 'where-were-we?' so you won't have to go through 11 other chapters trying to remember where I left you. I hope it serves its purpose.

And **three**? The chapter itself, of course.

**Without Words**

**12 – The Sound and the Fury**

_Captain Saitou brought out a piece of faxed paper from his pocket and waved it in Misao's face. "From Himura. Shall I read it?" But he didn't wait for her to answer. "Saitou," the captain said in his typical growl, "I have important information that I need to get to Makimachi Misao who, you will be surprised to know, is under your custody. Once she is released or has posted bail, please give her the addresses of these two men: Hanazawa Kazuma and Sadojima Hoji." He stopped and looked at her. "It's simple, Miss Makimachi. Answer my questions and you get the addresses. And then you can leave."_

_"They're following us, you know," Hannya intoned. "That's why they let you go so easily. It's been a while since the Juppongatana had conducted a public hit like yours today. You lured them out of hibernation. Captain Saitou's not going to like it if they suddenly disappeared now that he's ready for them."_

_"While we're at it," Misao continued in her sweetest voice, looking at the addresses in her hand, "maybe we can make a few side trips on the way."_

_Usui_ _grinned. "You mean you didn't know? We were all fooled in the beginning. Even Shishio didn't suspect a thing. Shishio killed her father…"_

_Aoshi's technique slowed just a heartbeat at Usui's revelation. _

_"…Your last hit made sure that no one would find out…"_

_Aoshi's thoughts turned back to a pair of innocent blue eyes looking at him – sometimes burning with irritation and anger, other times flashing with wit. And of that one time, when they shimmered with tears._

_Usui_ _was wrong. Whatever Misao had found out about her father's death, he was sure that she didn't know of his involvement in it. Not yet, anyway. Otherwise, she would never have trusted him the way she did now. He had to find her as soon as he was finished with Usui. He had to make sure that she didn't find out the wrong way. Was she still with Hannya? Wherever they were, he hoped she was safe._

_"Don't you worry," Usui told him, steel glinting in the night. "Shishio sent Seta after her."_

Seta Soujirou hated to lose. Sure, his smile remained on his face even when the world came crashing down, but inside he seethed with displeasure and rued -- in advance -- the swiftness with which he would dispose of his next mark. When the cop in the red Honda lost track of Makimachi Misao, Soujirou was already thinking of the different ways he could make him pay.

He could see the cop reaching for his phone, no doubt to report his inequity to a superior. Soujirou's smile widened with wry amusement. Trust an idiot to announce his failings to the world in an instant; a true professional adapted to the situation and exhausted all means available before he admitted defeat.

But Soujirou knew that the Honda was his only way of re-tracking Misao. As the vehicle wove its way through the streets of Kyoto, seemingly with a renewed purpose, he could only follow and hope that the idiot now knew where he was going. Going around in circles seemed like such a waste of time.

Soujirou's hand closed over the silencer beside him. He could almost hear the poor thing crying out to be used.

* * *

The house was a traditional bungalow, nestled in a quiet and well-lit suburban street. Misao looked around as the cab came to a full stop, noting how the rest of the houses mirrored the same undisturbed façade, no doubt tucking away families laughing over a late dinner or mothers singing their children to sleep. Somewhere, a dog barked. There was no sign of Chou yet, but if Saitou was smart, then the police would know where she was headed. But right now, the neighborhood was bathed in relative calm, oblivious to the brewing storm.

And she was going to bring it trouble.

"Hanazawa Kazuma," Misao recited from memory. The last person to see her father alive. She gave a Hannya a tight grin, her hand at the door. "Here we go."

As Hannya paid the cab driver, Misao alighted and rang the doorbell twice. A young woman a few years older than her opened the door. "Yes?" she asked politely.

"I'm sorry to intrude," Misao began, "but I'm looking for Hanazawa Kazuma-san. He knew my father once, and I was wondering if--"

"Tell whoever it is that it's too late for a social visit," a voice grumbled loudly behind the woman.

"But, Dad," the woman protested, shooting her an apologetic glance, "she says she's the daughter of an acquaintance."

"What? Who--?" The grumbling sounded louder now, as heavy footsteps approached. The door swung wide open.

The man was in his mid-sixties, with thin silver hair brushed forward to hide a receding hairline. He squinted at her through a pair of thick black glasses perched on his nose, but the eyes behind it were sharp, and widened with surprise as he breathed a name.

"Makimachi."

Misao almost clutched the man's arm at the flurry of hope that beat inside her chest. "You knew him. You knew my father."

Hanazawa sighed and gestured her inside. "I suppose so, or else you wouldn't be here right now, would you? Weren't you taught not to state the obvious? Reiko, go prepare some tea," he instructed his daughter. Just as he led Misao into the house, he paused to peer at something behind her. "Hmmm. Strange. Thought I saw someone there."

Misao glanced back at the empty street. "Maybe you saw my friend, sir. My bodyguard, if you will. He wouldn't mind staying outside while we talk."

Hanazawa looked at her up and down, as if trying to figure out what a young woman would need a bodyguard for. Thankfully, he didn't ask any more questions. "If you say so. I'm guessing you want to learn more about your father. Where are you from, girl?"

"Tokyo. I was raised by one of your former colleagues, Kashiwazaki Nenji…" Misao began.

"Ah. Okina. Didn't he tell you what you needed to know?" Hanazawa snorted. "Apparently not, or you wouldn't be here. I'm a fountain of logic these days." He pointed to the couch. "Sit. Sit. Let's get this over with.

"He was a gutsy man, Ichiro," Hanazawa revealed without much preamble. "Once he sniffed out a story, he never let it go. Used to stay all kinds of late -- or early, depending on how you see it -- hours on the job. Wasn't content with just handing in his articles; sometimes he waited for the paper to come out before going home. Thought that was just stupid. But he loved his wife even more. Her death just killed him." The man took a long drag on his cigarette before continuing. Even with the sensitive topic they were discussing, Misao took comfort in the fact that the older man minced no words with her, as hard and direct as the facts he was giving out.

"The day he went missing, we were supposed to do an interview with the Minister of Finance. We were there at the Ministry when your father thought he saw someone familiar. He excused himself, and that was the last I saw him," he said. "You must know that I'm used to that kind of behavior from Ichiro. Those days he was so wrapped up in a story that I figured he left because of it. I went to do the interview on my own. Next thing I knew, he was found dead."

"What story was he working on?" Misao asked dully. It seemed that no matter where she went, there was an expensive price for the life they chose, an expensive price for the truth.

Hanazawa grunted. "Girl, that was more than twenty years ago. Do you honestly think I can still remember what a colleague of mine was working on?" He sighed, took off his glasses, and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"I had my suspicions, of course. We were journalists; we were all trained to think. Damn shame no one thinks much these days. Place is crawling with headline-hogging rumors masquerading as news," Hanazawa complained. His daughter came up to them and offered them tea, but while Misao took hers, the old man brushed his away. "Gah. Not even tea can calm my nerves now."

Misao bowed her head. "I'm sorry for being a trouble, sir."

Hanazawa waved off her apology, slipping his glasses back on. "Never mind that. I knew this time would come. Anyway, like I said, there's no way I can be sure what Ichiro was working on those days, but I had my suspicions. We all saw shadows of the Juppongatana; you couldn't work in a Kyoto newspaper and not hear about them. But Ichiro was convinced he had proof, but he never said what it was. It could have been anything from a file to a photo to a witness. I never did find out."

The Juppongatana. Misao felt the hollow sensation in her stomach growing to envelop her in a frightening numbness.

"What happened to his files, his work?" she wanted to know.

"A journalist's notes are sacred, but our editor couldn't do anything against a warrant. Police got everything they thought was important. In the end, they said he was caught in a gang war. No arrests were made. A lot of good that warrant did them," Hanazawa said.

"But I saw the police files on my father," Misao protested. "There was no mention of other documentary evidence aside from the police report…"

Hanazawa gave her a hollow laugh. "Grow up, girl. Do you think the chain of custody would still hold true if Makimachi was really marked by the Juppongatana? They have men everywhere, even in the precious police department."

Misao's hand crumpled over the piece of fax paper.

* * *

"Usui's dead."

"A shame," Shishio said without much regret. "Seta?"

"Hasn't reported since he lost track of the girl."

Shishio rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He had no doubt that Seta would be more successful than Usui; the boy rarely disappointed. "Where's the professor now?"

"East of the Takano River. There's no doubt he's heading here."

"Tell Seta that there's been a change of plans," he growled. "Bring her in. I need her alive -- for now."

* * *

Aoshi cursed himself for not thinking straight. Misao should have been with Hannya by now, safely waiting for his instructions. But if Seta was after her, then no one -- not Hannya, not even Kyoto's famous Saitou Hajime -- could protect her. He hoped she had enough sense to keep out of sight, although he seriously doubted that. For a brief moment, he toyed with the idea of contacting Hannya and making sure that the girl was out of the city before he challenged Shishio, but he quickly discarded the thought.

Because right now, he had enough things to worry about.

One of Shishio's men left his motorcycle by the pavement, helmet hanging askew, a cold and hard thing in the moonlight. Aoshi strapped the helmet on, kick-started the bike to life, and sped away. Finders keepers. Such a convenient little rule. But just before he could leave the dark narrow street, two vehicles came out of nowhere and blocked his escape.

Shishio wasn't taking any chances.

Aoshi murmured a short expletive as five men alighted and began shooting. Rather than turn around and make his unprotected back their target range, he gunned the motor and charged headlong, the bike's headlights flashing at full speed. Disoriented bullets flew everywhere, but one caught the side of his arm, an angry line of liquid fire. He ignored the lancing pain that shot through him as he closed the distance between them.

He leapt.

The bike skidded into the men. With the momentary distraction, Aoshi unsheathed his kodachis and tore into the nearest man, carving a deep line across his target's chest. The other kodachi he buried in the next man's stomach. But that didn't stop the endless rain of bullets. Another bullet grazed his left abdomen, and Aoshi spun sideways at the impact.

He caught himself before he fell, and pivoted, his kodachis forming a deadly whirlwind around him. One of the men foolishly flung himself at Aoshi, and paid dearly for the mistake. His kodachis plunged deep into the man, and he used them to throw his now dead opponent into the others.

As the other men fell in a tangle of limbs, Aoshi jumped back on the motorcycle, keeping his unsheathed kodachis gripped in either hand. Blood dripped where he moved; whether they were his own or his victims', he wasn't sure. Instead, he concentrated on getting away, taking the corner at top speed. He leaned hard on the front brake and cradled the rear one, giving him enough control to tackle the turn at a sharper angle.

This was suicide, he knew.

But what else was there?

He took the main thoroughfares, weaving and wheeling through the thinning rush of vehicles. Aoshi kept his eyes north. The mountains of Kyoto loomed ominously before him, dark witnesses on a dark night.

* * *

The cop had posed a problem for Soujirou.

Temporarily, at least.

The Honda had parked at a quiet little street, and for a brief moment, Soujrou wondered if the cop was making a short pit stop at his own home. It was only when he caught sight of Hannya lingering beside a fire hydrant before blending into the shadows that he realized that this was where Misao had gone.

The blond cop remained in his seat, looking practically harmless as he lit a cigarette, but Soujirou knew better than most that danger lurked in even the most innocent surfaces.

He took aim.

Problem solved.

* * *

The gravity of Hanazawa's words descended upon Misao and lingered long after she had thanked the man and left. Outside, the street was still, as if the world was holding its breath for something to come to shatter its waiting. "Hannya?" she called out tentatively.

The man stepped out of the shadows. "No sign of the police yet, but I'm starting to think that this was a bad call. They know about this place. It would be easy for them to track you down here so we better start running." It was only then that he noticed the forlorn expression on her face. "What happened? Did you find what you need?"

Misao nodded wordlessly. "There was nothing in the end. No witnesses. No evidence. Everything that could have pointed to the Juppongatana, everything that could have told me what really happened to my father… all gone now."

Her words hung bitter in the air. In the end, all she had left were speculation and lies. _To come this far…_ Maybe that was all she was meant to know. Maybe that would be enough. Misao sighed. "What happens now?"

Hannya shrugged. "Then you go back to Tokyo and live the life you once had, Misao. There was nothing you could have done for your father anyway." He paused briefly, but when he spoke again, his voice was surprisingly gentle. "Perhaps it is time to lay the dead to rest."

The sound was but a muffled thud. Hannya's face crumpled even more grotesquely, and he looked down with surprise at the blossom of red that slowly spread across his chest. Another whiz, and another bullet buried itself in the base of his throat. Horrified but not quite understanding what was happening, Misao caught Hannya as he fell, crouching low to the ground.

"No hard feelings, Misao-san," a voice said, almost contritely. Soujiro walked up to her, his innocent mask in place as he leveled the gun at Misao.

"Juppongatana," she whispered.

Soujirou almost fell sorry for the girl. It was a shame it had to end like this, really. He wished he could just kill her right then and there to spare her from whatever it is that Shishio had planned. But orders were orders.

"Hannya's right. Let's leave the dead alone, shall we?"

Misao only had time to register a descending gun butt before darkness overtook her.

* * *

"I must apologize for the frightening lack of decorum with which we brought you here," a deep voice rasped as Misao's eyes fluttered open. Her head throbbed painfully as she struggled to sit up from the wooden floor.

The place looked like a formal training hall, judging from the wide expanse of polished wood that stretched before her. Through the dim light, she could make out the wooden blocks and scrolls that sparsely decorated the walls, with an assortment of weapons and training gear displayed in the back.

Her eyes focused on a heavily bandaged man in a purple kimono who had begun walking towards her. "Who are you? What the hell would you want with me?" she demanded.

The man chuckled. "I'm surprised that the professor didn't tell you all about me. Call me… an angel of mercy, if you will." When Misao showed no signs of recognizing him, he shook his head ruefully. "You truly have no idea," Shishio said, almost in wonder. "Well, then, no matter. I only wanted to see what you knew before I disposed of your body. I'm trying out a new motto: If you want something done right, do it yourself."

Something in Misao's brain clicked. "It was you, wasn't it? Whoever you are, it was you who killed Makimachi Ichiro all those years ago," she lashed out. "You paid the police to bury the case. You made sure there were no witnesses left. You did everything to make sure no one would find out."

The man clucked his tongue playfully. "Ah. The little kitten has some claws. A little too late now, Makimachi-san. And I'd advise you to validate your sources.

"I'm not quite the monster you're making me out to be," he continued. "You see, I plan to turn in all the information I have on your father's killer. When they find your dead body tomorrow, killed by the same gun that put an end to your father's life, all evidence will point to a certain doctor who is going on a rampage even as we speak."

He pulled out twin kodachis. "Familiar with these? Kodachi nitouryu. The exact kind Professor Shinomori uses. I would have preferred using a gun -- quick and painless, you know -- but I need to be believable."

Misao scrambled to her feet. _Keep him talking_, she said to herself. _Keep him talking and find a way out_. She tried calculating how many steps she could take to reach the door on the upper right corner of the room before he would strike her down. "Believe me, no one's going to think that Aoshi-sama killed me. And Captain Saitou will be out looking for me; it won't be long until he finds you."

"The police has had more than a lifetime to find me. You're almost amusing, Makimachi-san," the man told her, his smile glinting in the darkness. "_Almost._"

The kodachis flashed silver.

**:to** **be continued:**

**End of Chapter 12 – The Sound and the Fury**


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